The Mage's Assassin
by Garnet Seren
Summary: The long road was only the beginning. What does fate have in store for (f)Amell and Zevran after their initial, somewhat unorthodox, encounter? What significancy does their meeting have on their lives, Amell's companions and their quest to stop the Blight? Only the maker knows...
1. The Long Road

**The Long Road** (Amell PoV)

'_What a sight we must be'_ she thought ruefully, as the four of them drudged along the rutted earthen road. She knew full well what Alistair and Sten thought of the four women making the scouting party. But, as she had pointed out, Bodahn and Sandal were prime targets for bandits. Bandits who would certainly think twice about robbing a merchant with a Templar, a mabari and a behemoth of a Qunari guarding the wagon. So that left herself, Wynne, Morrigan and Leliana scouting the roads. A chuckle escaped her without warning, earning her a scowl from the witch.

"What in Thedas are you laughing for?" Morrigan demanded, her toned clipped as usual.

"I was thinking, my dear witch, that if it wasn't for Wynne, other travellers might take use for ladies of negotiable affection," she stated, unable to hide her grin. Really, it was true. Morrigan's incredibly revealing purple linen and silver chain top left little to the imagination. Her own Archon Robes were barely made modest by her thigh high boots and wolf skin shrug, and even Leliana's leather armour gave an eyeful of cleavage.

The raven haired witch twitched her purple mouth in an almost smile. "You have a point Amell," Morrigan conceded.

Before she could make any retort about being called by her last name, they were halted in their tracks, when an ashen haired woman literally barrelled into her. "Oh, thank the maker," the woman panted. "We need help, they attack the wagon. Please, help us." The traveller grabbed her hand earnestly.

"Or… people could take us for soft touches," Morrigan stated dryly.

"Garnet, we must help them," Leliana argued, her accented voice gently pleading.

With a sigh, Garnet's shoulders sagged as she nodded her head in agreement. It wasn't that she didn't want to help the woman, far from it. But since Garnet had left the Circle Tower to become a Grey Warden, just _once_ she wanted their travelling to go quietly. Instead of some bandit, assassin or darkspawn brawl happening. However, the Maker never heeded her wish.

"Follow me, I'll take you to them," the woman said, quickly setting off further up the path.

"At least it's the direction we were going in," Garnet stated, catching Morrigan's eye.

"For a change," the witch scoffed.

A few minutes jog brought them the sight of an over turned wagon, it's Oxen slain. _'Poor beast'_ she thought. A man caught her eye, bronzed skin and golden hair. To say he was handsome was an understatement, though something had set her sixth sense ringing alarm bells.

"Be on your guard," she said, barely above a whisper, as she slowly unslung her Ash longbow. Just because Garnet was an accomplished Mage didn't mean she was a one trick pony. Something she prided herself on, since leaving the tower, was just how quickly she had mastered the bow.

The woman they had been following nodded to the man, and Garnet heard the faint beginnings of an ominous creak. Subtly, she shift her feet into a battle ready stance. The man moved closer, allowing her to see the curving tattoo across the left side of his attractive face, then she noticed his ears. He wasn't a man, but an elf. _'Explains his looks'_ The elf's mouth pulled into an arrogant smirk, and he raised his hand in a nonchalant manner. At the signal, dozens of armour clad bandits emerged from the surroundings.

"And this is why we shouldn't help strangers," Morrigan muttered.

As Garnet was about to reply, the creaking got louder and at the same time she heard Wynne shout: "Watch out child."

On instinct, Garnet leapt out of the way of a falling tree. _'Son of a…'_

"The Grey Warden dies here!" the elf proclaimed, cutting off her curse.

'_Not a chance!'_ Scrambling to her feet, she let off a powerful Winter's Grasp spell directed at the elf, only vaguely aware that Wynne and Morrigan had the same idea. Leliana let out a fierce battle cry, one that Garnet knew would herald the arrival of Alistair and Sten. Though, hopefully, they wouldn't need their help.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**First and foremost, dedicated to Lady Velvet C. Peterson, who introduced me to the world of Dragon Age, igniting in me an equal obsession with Zevran as hers! I'm not sure how regular I will be updating this story, as I'm in the middle of a Mass Effect story but I will try to write for this a few times a month. It will be an Amell/Zevran romance…**


	2. Awakening

**Awakening** (Zevran PoV)

The first thing he noticed, and it came as some surprise, was that he was breathing. Granted, it was hardly an easy affair, but still… it meant he was alive. He was yet to decide if that was a good thing. The next thing he was aware of, was what felt like the toe of a steal boot pushing him to roll over onto his back. And it was a push, hardly gentle, but it certainly wasn't a kick. That was also surprising.

"I think this one's still alive," said the voice that presumable belonged to the boot.

With his eyes still refusing to open, he had to rely on his ears. Unfortunately, all they were telling him was that the voice was male. Which didn't seem to account for any of the four he had led the attack against. They had been shapely, good looking women.

"Kill him," another voice stated gruffly. This again was a male voice, harsh and slightly accented.

'_Qunari?'_ he wondered vaguely. Perhaps he should have been more concerned with the words than the voice, however he was still unsure as to whether being alive was a good thing or not. The pain that radiated from his chest and back were currently firmly in the 'no' camp right.

"A good idea. I could set him alight, if you like?" That voice was female, and sounded as if it was smiling at the idea. If it didn't hurt so much to move, he might have shuddered. Burning alive was _not_ high up his preferred methods to die.

"No!" gasped another female voice. "That is not right. Even though he attacked us, we should be merciful." The voice was slightly sweet, young sounding and heavily accented. _'Orlais?'_ he wondered vaguely. He rather liked this voice. "If we are to kill him, we should grant it quickly. Minimise his suffering." Or not. Since he was starting to think living might be the preferred option, despite the pain.

"Whatever you want to do, you should do it soon," said the first voice. "This stab wound looks pretty nasty, it may have punctured a lung."

'_Ah'_ was about the only thing he could think, after hearing that delightful piece of information. It certainly would account for the pain in his chest.

He heard a small sigh. It sounded feminine. "Leli, will you bind his hands? Preferably behind his back, if you can do it without causing more damage to his chest."

"If you are sure," came the hesitate answer from the Orlais sounding voice.

Within seconds, he found himself being rolled onto his other side, the one without the stab wound. It was a push, not a shove, which was once again surprising. Then his wrists were seized and he felt rough rope being wrapped around them. He wasn't inclined to fight. In truth, he doubted he had the energy to do so, and the pain certainly wasn't going to allow him to put up any resistance. All he could offer was a grunt of agony as he found a new injury. It seemed his left shoulder was quite possibly dislocated, and protested greatly to the movement. Then he was forced, albeit gently, onto his back again.

He heard the sound of light footsteps, before he felt a small hand press onto his injured joint. He bit back a whimper, determined not to show weakness. After all, the Crows taught him to never show any emotion. However, the owner of the hand seemed to sense his pain, for the pressure lessened.

"I am going to heal you, then you're going to answer some questions. Understand?" this was the soft and gentle voice from a moment ago.

Both the words and the tone surprised him, too kind for the situation. With more effort than he cared to admit, he managed to crack his eyes open for a moment, before clamping them shut again. The light sent spears of pain stabbing into his brain, and he let out an involuntary hiss, before feeling warm hands on either side of his head.

"This will numb the pain a little," the soft voice told him.

"What is the point? Torture gets answers quicker," the Qunari sounding voice stated. That was a voice he was really starting to dislike.

"You know I am not a fan of torture, but is he really worth healing? He _did_ just try to kill you," said the first voice. Another, he was not very fond of.

"I am forced to agree," said a new voice. This was another female, but sounded older than the rest. "It is not wise to waste your mana needlessly." Once again, he wasn't warming to this voice either, since he thought stopping him dying wasn't needless. It was very much needed, as he'd finally decided he rather wanted to live.

The owner of the soft voice sighed again. He knew this as he felt the ghost of her warm breathe skitter across his face when she exhaled. "Can you all go wait over there?" she asked as one hand left the side of his head, presumably directing her companions. "Cadoc, here boy." With that, the unmistakable smell of mabari drew closer. "Stay." There was a bark, which he assumed was the dog agreeing.

Once the hand returned to his head, he quickly felt a coolness coil around his brain. It was soothing, helping to ease the throbbing to the point he dared to attempt to open his eyes again. He wasn't sure if he was glad that he managed. In front of him was a beautiful woman. Porcelain skin, flaming red hair and startling green eyes. A jade coloured tattoo adorned her pretty face, and subtle make up set off most of her features, contrasted by the ruby hue of her full lips. The colour made her look like she had just been eating berries, and gave him the irrepressible urge to want to kiss her. Unfortunately, it was the face of the warden he had been trying to kill.

'_Ah'_ he thought again. Being at the complete mercy of someone whose life you are, or at least were, actively trying to end… that was never a good thing.

There was a bare twitch to her mouth, indicating a brief smile. "Hello," she greeted quietly, meeting his eyes. He would have laughed at the absurdity of that, if it didn't hurt so much to simply breathe. "Now that I am sure you're not going to die from a brain injury, I'm going to move onto your lungs," she told him. "Then, you can answer some questions. Depending if I like your answers, I will heal your other injuries. Sound like a good deal?"

"Yes," he managed to wheeze. Instantly regretting it as he hissed again in pain.

"Easy," the warden soothed, stroking his brow before she began to loosen his leather chest plate.

Normally, he would have whipped off some quip about how beautiful women never could resist undressing him. However, a combination of pain and confusion stole his usual, playful nature. She was being utterly gently with him. Carefully moving the material in a way that caused him the least amount of discomfort. When she had access to his naked skin, her touch was almost tender and that alone was beyond perplexing. He had tried to kill this woman, yet here she was willingly tending to him. In a way that could put a lover to shame. This alone made him decide, he would ask to join her… if she let him live. He was so intrigued by this woman. She was an utter puzzle to him, one that he wanted, _needed_, to solve.

The healing of his chest was not as pleasant, nor as soothing, compared to how the warden had healed his head. He could feel the itch as muscles slowly knitted back together, and the unnerving crack as broken ribs realigned. There was no control over his wincing or gasps of pain. Normally, he would be embarrassed by such a display of weakness, his trademark charm and bravado having deserted him. However, after each of his acknowledgements of pain, the warden gently hushed him or murmured platitudes. Then, there was a final, almighty crack. One that left him audibly groaning. Of course, it was that moment the warden began to question him.

"Now, I want some answers," she stated. Her voice was still pleasant, but there was a force behind it.

"Ah, so I'm going to be interrogated. Let me save you some time," he offered, some of his smoothness coming back to his demeanour. "My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends, especially when they are as lovely as you. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here with the sole purpose of slaying any remaining Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly…"

Oddly, he found himself apprehensive as he waited her reply. It was unnerving, something he'd never worried about before, always sure his charm would carry him through any situation. He could hear scoffs and murmurs of dissent from the warden's companions who stood not far away, along with a hostile growl from the mabari by her side. However, as he looked up at her, he could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**So, much like my ME fanfic, this will be told from alternating points of view. If anyone would like to know, Cadoc is a Welsh name meaning battle. I thought it was very fitting for a war dog. **


	3. An Unlikely Ally

**An Unlikely Ally** (Amell PoV)

Sitting back on her haunches, careful not to reveal an eyeful of what was under her robes, Garnet regarded her would be assassin. Despite his words and the situation, she couldn't help the twitch of a smile that threatened to form on her lips. He certainly intrigued her. "I must admit, I'm rather happy you failed," she stated, eyeing him critically.

"So would I be, in your shoes," he acknowledged, his voice as exotic as his looks. "For me, however, it sets a… rather poor precedent. Doesn't it? Getting captured by a target, even one as lovely as yourself, seems a tad detrimental to ones budding assassin career."

She found herself biting the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling. Sure, she knew she should be angry at the elf, he had just tried to kill her after all, but there was something about his bravado that made her curious about him. "Too bad for you then," she retorted sarcastically. If he wanted to play this game, she was happy to oblige him, at least for now.

He gave a dramatic sigh, evidently she had healed his lungs pretty well. "Yes… it's true. Too bad for me."

She had to admit, she hadn't really expected him to volunteer any information. It was surprising, if not more than a little suspicious. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked evenly, tilting her head to the side.

"Why not?" he scoffed. "I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale… precisely."

This only raised more questions and she found herself frowning slightly. "Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?

"Loyalty is an _interesting _concept. If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further."

Crossing her arms underneath her bust, she scrutinised the elf's face, trying not to get distracted by his good looks. He still wore the small, self-assured smirk he had throughout the conversation. Surprisingly, for someone laying bound on a dirt road, he somehow managed to pull it off. However, it was the honest look in his unusual amber eyes that was quite at odds with the smirk, which really drew her attention.

"Against my better judgement, I'm listening," she told him, a half smile forming. "Though make it quick."

"Well, here's the thing… I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit," he explained. "That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living and you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause. So… let me serve _you_ instead."

Behind her there was a chorus of "No!", "Not a chance" and "You have to be joking". Even Cadoc gave a low growl, but Garnet kept her gaze locked onto the elf's amber eyes as she held up a hand for quiet. There was something very earnest in their depths, something she was sure that even he wasn't aware of. She had to admit, failed assassination attempt aside, he had seemed a fierce fighter during their skirmish. With a combat style similar to Leliana's, he could prove an asset, though she wasn't fully convinced he wouldn't stab her in the back.

"Can I expect the same amount of loyalty?" she questioned pointedly.

"I happen to be a very loyal person," he defended, sounding a little affronted. "Up until the point someone expects me to die for failing. That's not a fault is it? Really? I mean… unless you are the sort that would do the same thing. In which case I… don't come very well recommended I suppose."

Once again, she was back to biting the insides of her cheek, both of them this time. The complete slip in his façade, the slight stumble in his words and the softening of his expression was rather… cute. It oddly reminded her a little of Cullen, her favourite Templar back at the tower, back before Uldred's betrayal. Even the joke at the end spoke of barely concealed nervousness, rather than any bravado.

"And what is to stop you finishing the job later?" she asked, smiling pleasantly, determined to keep the assassin on the back foot.

For a moment he looked a little surprised, before his brow furrowed. "To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to join up with someone they can't touch."

"You're not seriously listening to him, are you?" Alistair called, sounding incredulous.

"Even if I kill you now, they might just kill me on principle for failing the first time," the elf continued, ignoring the Templar's outburst. "Honestly, I… would rather take my chances with you."

"And what exactly would you want in return?" she asked, drumming her fingers against her bicep. If his story was true, which Garnet had to admit seemed likely given that the elven population was hardly treated equal or fairly, she felt sorry for him.

"Well, let's see… being allowed to live would be nice," he replied, a rather small smile on his lips. "And would make me marginally more useful to."

"Marginally," she agreed dryly.

The elf gave a quiet, almost derisory sounding snort. Oddly, it pulled on Garnet's heartstrings a little. "And, further down the line, if you decide you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I'm yours," he continued. The last two words seeming to hold thinly veiled double meaning.

She hummed in thought. "Supposing I believe you," she said at length. "Why should I want your services?"

"Why? Because I am skilled at many things," the elf replied, his confidence evidently coming back. "From fighting, to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more… sophisticated. Now that my attempt has failed."

"Not that I'm particularly worried about them, after your failure," she couldn't help but tease.

"You wound me," he replied, his smirk fully back. "I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer," he goaded. "Warm your bed." His voice dropped to a lower pitch. "Fend off unwanted suitors, no?" The last offer was punctuated with a sly glance towards Alistair.

Unable to stop herself, she chuckled. "Bed-warming might be nice," she replied, dropping her voice to match his husky tone. She could hear Alistair splutter behind her, and both Morrigan and Leliana stifling their own chuckles.

"See… I knew we could find a common interest. Or two, or three. Really, I can go all night." There was no denying the innuendo, nor the assassin's appreciative look.

"Dear Maker!" Wynne muttered, barely under her breathe.

"So, what shall it be?" the elf questioned. "I will even shine armour. You won't find a better deal, I promise."

"See Alistair, he's even got an offer for you," Garnet called, giving the flustered looking Templar a wink over her shoulder. "Very well, _Zev_, I accept your offer."

"A fine plan," Morrigan drawled. "But I would examine your food and drink far more closely from now on. Where I, you."

"That's excellent advice for anyone," the elf quipped.

Leliana came to kneel by her side, unsheathing a dagger and handing it to Garnet as she did. "Welcome Zevran. Having an Antivan Crow join us, does sound like a fine plan."

"Oh? You're another companion to be then? I wasn't aware such loveliness existed amongst adventurers," he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice.

The bard look positively aghast. "Or maybe not." With that, Leliana quickly rose to her feet and swiftly joined the others by Bodahn's wagon, which had just trundled up to join them.

"Behave," she scolded the elf. "Or I will roll you on your injured arm to cut you bindings."

"You are not so cruel, my lovely warden," Zevran smiled.

"Garnet," she corrected him, gently helping him to sit up "Or Amell. Either will do, I get enough of the title everywhere else. I don't need it from my traveling companions as well." Deftly, she cut the rope binding his wrists. Then Garnet slid the dagger along the ground towards the group with her outer hand, whilst the one nearest to him held his arm in place, hoping to minimise any discomfort from the change in position. She caught his questioning look. "How stupid do you think I am?" she asked, smiling. "You _did_ just try to kill me." Without another word, she set about healing his shoulder. Focusing her magic to help the torn muscles to mend and soothing away the pain.

Once that was done, she stood, offering her hand to him. He took it, allowing her to help him to his feet. There was a quick flash of agony across his face as his knees buckled and he hunched forward. Without thinking, Garnet halted Zevran's fall by catching him around the waist, only bleatingly realising that closing the distance gave him a real opportunity to stab her in the gut, should he carry a concealed weapon. Instead, she found his weight resting almost awkwardly against her. One of his hands on her hip, the other gripping her bicep and his head resting on the shoulder above. He was panting and slightly trembling with the effort to remain on his feet.

"Back?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yes," he replied, evidently through gritted teeth.

Shifting her weight slightly, to allow her to reach his back, Garnet gently began to run her free hand down his spine. Her fingertips barely touched his naked skin as she sought to ease the pain and mend the unseen injury. Minutes passed by as the two stood together, bones and muscles quickly healing, until finally Zevran raised his head from her shoulder. However, he didn't move far.

"I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you. Until such a time you choose to release me from it. I'm your man, without reservation. This I swear," he all but whispered in her ear before stepping away from her. He gave her a slight bow. "My thanks."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Mmm… topless Zevran. Simply, because! That & it's unlikely he'd have got away without any injuries what so ever, so hopefully this made it a little more believable. **


	4. A Simple Gift

**A Simple Gift** (Zevran PoV)

He had kept pace beside the warden for the past few hours, chatting amicably, as they walked the Long Road. When they had finally halted, they were in a clearing nearby a pond, and the sun was touching the horizon. It was a decent campsite that the raven haired woman had scouted, along with the mabari. The ground was soft grass, with earthen banks circling the clearing and frogs croaking in the undergrowth, letting Zevran know that he would at least not become a meal for passing mosquitos.

The warden, _'Garnet'_ he corrected himself, gave a low chuckle as she regarded the other women. "Morrigan, my lovely Witch of the Wilds, a frog pond? How delightful, are you introducing us to your past suitors that fell below your standards?"

"But of course," Morrigan replied, a dark smile forming as she regarded the man named Alistair. "You know how I so love proving our _dear _Templar right."

Despite not really knowing what was going on, Zevran couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his mouth. Enjoying how Alistair coughed with embarrassment, before mumbling something about getting the camp set up. Then realisation dawned, he didn't have a tent… not even a bedroll, since this was not how he had pictured his day ending. Not that he wasn't familiar with sleeping out in the open, but there was a distinct chill in the air that heralded the change of seasons. It would not be a comfortable night sleeping underneath the stars with winter quickly approaching. Pushing the thought aside, he went to offer his assistance to any who would welcome it. With the warden off with the one called Leliana, collecting fresh water, the only person willing to give him the time of day was the travelling merchant Bodahn.

"Here, take these to the warden, she'll be around somewhere. Tell her they are fully cured now," the dwarf instructed, handing him a heavy pile of wolf pelts.

Without argument, he did what he was asked, finding Garnet outside one of the newly erected canvas tents. "I have a delivery of fine furs, for a fine lady," he called out in greeting. To his surprise, she regarded him with a bright smile. Or perhaps that look was directed at the pelts, he wasn't entirely sure.

"Zev, thank you. Can you put them in there?" she asked, motioning towards the open entrance of her tent. With a nod, he obediently followed her request. "Whilst you're there, choose whichever you like," she added as she bent to rummage through her pack.

He froze at her words, his hands hovering over one of the pelts. Shaking his head, he dismissed what he had heard. These were fine pelts indeed, expertly treated and cured by the look of them. They'd fetch an extremely high price in any of the market towns in Ferelden, there was no way she was offering him one for free. He must have miss heard her. With that, he left the stack of furs to one side and exited her tent. It seemed he had been regarding the pelts longer than he thought, for when Zevran emerged, he was greeted by the sight of a roaring campfire as dusk settled over the clearing. The warden seemed to be making her way around the group, her back was towards him most of the time, so he simply presumed she was talking to them individually. All until there was an excited squeal from Leliana, as she flung her arms around the warden. Oddly, there was a flower clasped in one of the rogue's hands. Drawing closer he could hear their conversation.

"Oh, it smells just like my mother," Leliana smiled, having finally released the warden. "I wouldn't have thought you would remember."

"You're my friend, Leli. Of course I remember," Garnet replied, an undercurrent of laughter in her voice. "Besides, you'd be a pretty poor bard if you couldn't make people remember your stories."

"Perhaps, but it seems someone seeks your audience."

The warden turned, and for a moment the fire light set her red hair ablaze like a rich ruby. _'Beautiful'_ he thought, before noticing the frown she was regarding him with. Zevran decided it was not a look he liked seeing on her face, particularly directed at himself. As she walked towards him, he wondered if there was something more than friendship between the two women, and if her frown was a result of him interrupting a private moment. Maker knew he'd done worse to people who had disturbed such moments in the past.

"None to your fancy?" Garnet asked when she reached him, forcing Zevran to look at her in confusion. "The pelts," she clarified. "I asked you to choose your preference."

"Oh… I…" he managed to say before she linked her arm through his, gently propelling him back towards her tent.

"Win all the ladies over with that line do you?" she teased. "It's hard not to notice you don't have a bedroll, never mind a tent. I have some spare blankets you can have, but a pelt will be a lot more comfortable and warmer than sleeping on the ground."

It took Zevran a moment to realise she _had_ actually been serious earlier and for some reason, that was a little terrifying. He wasn't use to someone being nice, especially in a non-sexual way, to him. Or perhaps it was a setup, which meant he had even more reason to be on guard. "You are too kind, my dear warden" he said, some of his characteristic charm slipping back into place. Mostly as defence. "But the blankets will more than suffice."

Narrowing her eyes, she gave an annoyed huff. "You're going to be no good to me if you can't fight because your muscles have seized up with the cold. Choose a pelt, for Maker's sake!"

He was about to try argue again, when Morrigan called them from across the fire. "Amell. Elf. Food."

"Eloquent as always," the warden called back, heading towards the others. As she did, she glanced over her shoulder towards him. "Consider it a gift, if it will make you feel better Zev."

A gift. No. That only made matters worse.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**So this chapter sprung for two/three ideas. The comments regarding the Witch of the Wilds and frogs during your warden training, wondering where Zevran would sleep that first night (surely no one is going to want to share a tent with an assassin) and the copious amounts of wolf pelts you pick up during the game.**


	5. Fireside

**Fireside** (Amell PoV)

She awoke, a silent scream stuck in her throat. _'Maker damned nightmares!'_ Ever since Ostagar, Garnet had been plagued with reliving the battle every time she closed her eyes. Sometimes it would morph into watching Duncan die, other times the Ogre they had fought turned into the Archdemon. Whichever the culmination, she would always wake in a cold sweat and there was little point trying to sleep afterwards.

After running a hand through her tousled hair, she dressed quickly. Pausing only to wrap a warm woollen blanket about her shoulders, before venturing out of her tent into the cool night air. The sharp chill heralded the swiftly approaching winter, and she shuddered a little. On nights like this, Garnet usually took solace from watching the stars, or staring deep into the campfire embers. However, the lone figure of Zevran staring into the flames caught her attention. Quietly, with Cadoc by her side, she went to join him and she was unsurprised when the elf turned to her.

"It is good, that ladies such as yourself are already too lovely to need beauty sleep," he greeted, shifting sideways to allow her a space on the pelt.

"Flatterer," she smiled, taking the offered seat. "I didn't expect anyone to be awake."

"So you came to ravish me in my sleep, no? An interesting prospect," Zevran teased.

Deciding to play along, if only to chase away the thoughts of her nightmare, she shrugged. "What if I did?" she asked flippantly.

There was a chuckle from the elf. "Well here I am."

"So I see," she drawled, turning her attention to the fire. "And since you're awake and spoiled my plans, care to answer some questions instead?"

"Oh, how cruel you are to get a poor man's hopes up," he grinned. "Though as long as you make the questions interesting, this should be good. Go ahead."

Out of the corner of her eye, Garnet noticed the way he shivered, despite the blanket wrapped about his shoulders. It was the one she had brought from the Tower when she had first left with Duncan. _'Obviously not warm enough!'_ Without a second thought, she shuffled closer to Zevran and added one side of her blanket to his. She watched a look of surprise flash across his eyes before he grinned and returned the favour, leaving his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Oddly, Garnet found she didn't mind. There was a grunt as Cadoc flung himself down, unceremoniously, behind them. Adding his heat to theirs.

"What does it take to become an assassin?" she asked, her eyes falling to Zevran's sword and dagger that lay an arm's width away.

"That is what you what you wish to now? How very unexpected," he chuckled. "Well, my dear Grey Warden, the Crow's would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training. The sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you're good enough to start being considered one of them. But, quite frankly, the truth is all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It is surprising how well one can do in such a field."

Unable to control it, Garnet gave a shudder. She still remembered the elf telling her he had been bought from the slave trade by the Crows. If that was true, it must have been an ordeal for him, yet she doubted he'd appreciate her condolences. "You did quite well, no doubt? You wouldn't still be a Crow if all your assassinations went as poorly as mine," she joked instead.

That earned her a laugh as he pulled her a little tighter against him, evidently thinking her shudder was from the cold. "Within the Crows I did," he conceded. "But it has been something that the Crows have devoted a great deal of time to perfecting. An assassin simply specialises in striking from stealth and in maximising that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitating your foe by poison, or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow up combat you have to engage in that much simpler."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she gave an amused snort. "Guess that explains the tree, I thought it was less than subtle for an assassin. Though considering how it failed miserably, I guess poison is your preferred method?"

"It is," Zevran agreed, smiling impishly. "It's not something inherent to an assassin's skills however, merely something complimentary. Of course the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So, let's just keep this between you and me, shall we?"

"Well, we've so far survived Alistair's attempts to kill us with food poisoning. But better get you to taste the food first whenever you cook then," she grinned earning her another surprised look. "What? You thought you could get out of your fair share of duties?"

"Not at all. I did not expect you to trust me, that is all," he replied seriously.

"We shall see. Thankfully it's Morrigan's turn this week and Leliana's next, but we will see. As for keeping this between you and me, depends on what you're willing to teach me to buy my silence," she told him, a mischievous look entering her eyes.

"You wish to become an assassin my dear? I could certainly teach you, but I won't," he said quietly. "I swore to the Crows that the things they taught me were to remain a secret, and while yes, they are already angry at me, I would rather not push things you see."

Garnet regarded him quietly for a moment, she hadn't seen him so serious before, even when death was staring him in the face. "Actually, I was just interested in the poisons. I suspect they could be useful to know, and understanding how they're made would help me and Wynne with creating antidotes. However, I'll respect your word Zev. Do not worry."

Zevran was silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating her words. "If this is the reason, and you are truly insistent… let me think about it," he smiled, turning his gaze back to the fire. "The Crows are already angry at me, yes. Who knows?"

"Thank you," she said, stifling a yawn and shifting to her knees. "Bodahn received a message that an acquaintance of his will be in the Denerim market for the next few days, so we're heading there right after sunrise."

"Hmmm, that would mean we should arrive just before nightfall then," Zevran mused.

"If no more would be assassins try and attack," Garnet teased, moving to wrap her blanket fully around him. "Here, might take the chill off. Try get some rest." It surprised her, when he gently caught her hand and kissed her knuckles in a debonair manner.

"With thoughts of you in my head, I am sure I will have the most pleasant dreams," he flirted.

"Good night, _again_, Zev," she chuckle, moving to stand. With a low whistle to Cadoc, she strode for her tent, determined not to give a backward glance to the elf. How was an assassin so charming? That was a complete crime.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Just a few ideas following on from the last chapter that popped up whilst watching the in game cutscenes/conversations, trying to establish something logical about how these two progress from trying to kill each whilst keeping to the given script/story.**


	6. Trial by Euphemism

**Trial by Euphemism** (Zevran PoV)

Being in Denerim put him on edge, not that he let it show. He had the reputation of a fearless, loveable rogue to uphold after all, but when the warden had asked him to accompany her into the city… well, Zevran was starting to admit he had a problem saying no whenever she turned her brilliant green eyes on him. So, here he was, in the bustling market square with Garnet, her mabari and Leliana, speaking with a fellow Antivan, or at least the warden was. There was something about the human man that made Zevran try and blend into the crowd, silently observing but not drawing attention to himself. As soon as he heard the man state that he handled "other affairs", Zevran's blood chilled. Something was definitely off. Catching the warden's eye, he gave a subtle signal they should move on. Thankfully, she seemed to understand, for moments later the four of them were making their way back towards the city gate.

"Explain at camp," Garnet said in a low whisper as she had past him and he happily nodded in agreement. However, they had barely made it to the street housing the gates before the sound of a lone person running met his ears. As one, they all turned to face their pursuer, finding a young human boy. He couldn't have been more than seven, and Zevran couldn't help wonder if he, himself, had ever looked so innocent.

"Message for you milady," the youngster beamed, holding out an envelope.

"Than…" Garnet began as she accepted the item.

"Must go, more things to deliver," the boy interrupted, rushing off.

Zevran watched as the warden chuckled then handed a small pouch that jingled faintly with the sound of a few coppers to the mabari. With a low whistle, she sent the dog after the human, and he caught up with the boy quickly. In the near distance, Zevran could see the boy gingerly take the offered bag from Cadoc and widen his eyes in delight when he opened it. Zevran had expected the youth to simply scamper off, but instead he turned back to them an offered the warden a small bow, she answered with a wave before turning her attention back to the envelope in her hand.

"Shall we see what my new friend brought us?" she asked quietly, already breaking the seal.

Sidling closer to her, he wondered if Garnet realised she had probably just bought that boy's loyalty, or at very least his favour, with that little gift. Or even if she had planned it.

"You know, if you keep handing out coppers like that, we'll end up with a hoard of children following us," Leliana smiled. "And after Lothering, didn't Morrigan threat to poison you if that happened again?"

The bard's word's made Zevran believe that, no, the warden hadn't planned it. If anything, it was an act of kindness done for its own sake, and a regular occurrence. That thought puzzled him all the more. In his experience, people didn't do that sort of thing.

"No, she threatened to slip mayapple into Alistair's food if he continued to teach the children the entirety of the Chant of Light," Garnet replied, her eyes skimming over the parchment, reading as she spoke. Her brow furrowed, bringing back Zevran's discordant feeling from earlier. "An anonymous letter asking us to a meeting in the Gnawed Noble Tavern."

"I suspect it will be in one of the back rooms," he advised. "Such things usually are, but at least it is not some grimy backstreet."

"So it will only be blood, and not undetermined filth that will be soiling our clothes when this goes awry?" Garnet quipped, handing the parchment to Leliana for safekeeping.

"Ah, always the optimist my dear," he grinned, forcing joviality he didn't entirely feel. "Lead on, I shall follow." The mabari barked, seemingly in agreement and Leliana hummed her own assent.

Quickly, they retraced their steps back to the market and further past the stalls to the tavern. As they walked the halls, no one paid them any heed and they soon found the most likely room. Upon entering, they were greeted by the same man from the market. Now his face wasn't shielded by the shadows of hanging carpets and silks, Zevran recognised him for who he was, Master Ignacio. The Crow's most widely travelled handler. A fact that didn't bode well.

"You are here about the note?" the man greeted. "Maybe we have some things we can discuss?"

The double question put Zevran on edge, it was a characteristic most runners had when hiring help, which was a situation he was loathed to let the warden walk into unprepared. Without thinking, he shifted his stance, guarding Garnet from one of Ignacio's nearby henchmen. "See the conversation stays civil," he warned in a clipped tone. "If this is a trap, I…"

The master gave a crooked smile. "Zevran, isn't it? You're Taliesen's _responsibility_. Other Crow's may try to kill you, but in my eyes, you are already dead. So, you are of no notice, but the warden here… she is of great _interest_ to me." With that, Ignacio moved swiftly to capture Garnet's hand, and kissed her knuckles.

Zevran felt himself bristle, choosing to file the unwelcomed fact about Taliesen away from a quieter time, he honed himself on the task of protecting the warden. Though he couldn't decide why the human touching her angered him so, all he could think was that a man like Ignacio was not worthy to be in her presence, let only lay a finger on her.

"I'm listening," Garnet replied, almost haughtily as she extracted her hand.

"Ferelden is a busy place. Blight, civil war, other mayhem, lots of people not getting along. Sometimes they really… don't get along. Many want to do something about it. The people that handle that sort of thing can get real busy," Ignacio stated.

He heard the warden give the amused snort, one that Zevran himself was trying to hold back. "So, you're hiring help?" she asked, laughter undercutting her words. "More importantly, you're wanting to hire someone you wanted dead?"

"No, not I. I am not fool enough to strive for such a thing," the master defended. "But you could say that. There are not many people we can turn to. So, someone who has crossed our path and lived, well… maybe they could help out? Make some coin, everyone wins."

To Zevran's surprise, Garnet seemed to be contemplating the offer. "How would it work?"

"I hand you a scroll, you read it, you learn about someone interesting. If you find out something happens to them, something unfortunate, then if we talk again, I give you money… for letting me know," Ignacio smiled. "You don't like what's on the scroll, don't do anything. Maybe they have an accident and someone else tells me all about it instead."

"If I agree, I don't want any other Crows after us," she replied, her guard shifting slight towards Zevran.

He stopped himself sucking in a surprised breath, only a few days ago he had tried to kill her himself, now she was considering doing something with what seemed like the motivation to protect him. She baffled him, and entranced him. Zevran vaguely wondered if this was what having a friend was like, never since Rinna had… _'No, this is not the time!'_ Being distracted could cost the warden her life, and he found that was not something he was willing to risk.

"That, I cannot do," the master replied, sounding actually remorseful. "Another master has a contract on you, but if you help us out, _maybe_ when that master asks for help he will just get silence. Yes?"

Now, that was a turn up for the books, as the Magi liked to say. From a Crow Master, that was as good as swearing an allegiance. Not something he had expected when this conversation started. As much as Zevran was wary to work with or for, whatever this was, the Crows again, this offer had some serious merit. Not that he had any when of notifying Garnet of this, making him wonder if he should at least teach her some of the Crow's none verbal signals to let them communicate during times like this.

"I see," the warden replied at length. "On another topic, I don't suppose you know of any interesting scrolls, do you my friend? One can only read the same stories so many times."

He would have been annoyed with the way the master's eyes lit up at this, if Zevran himself wasn't so impressed with how quickly Garnet had picked up the play of words. Ever those familiar with the Crows often took months, if not years, to master the skills.

Ignacio produced a scroll from a nearby set of draws. "I believe you will find this to be fine reading." There was nothing untoward in the master's words, no unseen hidden meaning, but the way the man's hands brushed the warden's… that had Zevran biting back the urge to sever the man's fingers.

"You are a cautious little weasel Ignacio," he hissed, barely holding his temper. "What's your angle? If you are playing us false…"

"My darts are not for you," the master interrupted, his eyes never leaving Garnet, much to Zevran's disproval. "I need to be real… _honest _sometimes, and I can say I haven't asked anyone to do anything. I just gave someone something to read."

"And you think that will save your hide when they nail it to a wall?" Zevran quipped, barely disguising his condemnation.

"You are already dead in my eyes _whoreson_, take care I don't learn otherwise," Ignacio sneered.

For a split second, the old taunt stung, swiftly to be replaced by complete shock as the warden closed the distance between herself and the master. There were no weapons drawn but, being a mage, Zevran doubted she needed any. Gripping the front of the man's tunic, Garnet pulled the master down, so his eyes were level with her own. "No one insults or threatens my companions, understand?" she snarled, and icy blue aura adding to her warning.

"Of course my lady," Ignacio managed to smile, though his voice was strained. "And if that is all, luck be to you."

"And may the Maker's light shine upon you," the warden replied, sickly sweet as she smoothed out the rumble in the man's clothing.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Well, since my DAO has decided to play silly buggers, resulting in me currently having to reinstall it, I've evidently got some time on my hands to write! This chapter is inspired by the 'The Trial of Crows' side quest.  
>Mayapple is the common name for podophyllum peltatum, a poisonous plant that can cause diarrhea and severe digestive upset. <strong>


	7. Gilded Cages

**Gilded Cages** (Amell PoV)

Silently seething, Garnet made her way back to camp. Zevran, Leliana and Cadoc in tow. Really, she shouldn't be angry at all. The little mission for the Crows had gone successfully, and oddly the target really _did_ deserve to die. However, so called 'Master' Ignacio really rubbed her up the wrong way, his comment about Zevran never far from her mind whenever she dealt with him. Which was why she was in a slow boil of a bad mood right now.

Thanks to Duncan, archery practice had replaced Kundalini as her preferred method of meditation. So after politely making excuses, she slipped away from the rest of the group, knowing dinner would not be for another hour at least, and headed into the small copse of woodland that surrounded their campsite. Intent on shoot arrows into a poor, unsuspecting tree until she felt better. Naturally, Cadoc trotted dutifully at her side, though Garnet was sure she could hear another set of footsteps following a short distance behind them. However, her mabari hadn't raised any alarm, so she felt fairly certain it was merely a member of her band of misfits.

Never liking the idea of injuring a living entity unnecessarily, she sought out a dead tree to use as a target, quickly finding a withering Birch. Inhaling slowly, she took up her stance, left foot forward. Exhaling she brought her bow to position. Inhaling, her right hand notched an arrow, drawing back the bow string. Exhaling, she forced her shoulders down, drawing her shoulder blades together. Inhaling, she sighted down the arrow shaft. Exhaling, she let the missile fly. There was a satisfying _thunk_ as the arrow embedded itself into the dead wood.

"You are a marvel to watch," a heavily accented voice called to her.

Garnet was incredibly proud of herself that she didn't so much as flinch at the sudden sound of the Antivan's voice. "Me, or my archery?" she asked with a chuckle, not bothering to turn in his direction as she notched another arrow.

"Why not both?" Zevran quipped from his position to her left. "You are rather an aggressive little minx, lovely too and it is not often one sees a mage wielding anything but a staff."

There was another _thunk_ as her second arrow embedded just shy of her original target. "Is that you asking, in a roundabout way, why I use a bow?"

"Perhaps," he replied, a note of amusement in his rich voice.

"Duncan," Garnet stated matter of factly, letting another arrow fly. _Thunk_. "The Grey Warden who recruited me. I only got to travel with him for a week between leaving the tower and meeting up with the army in Ostagar, but he was kind enough not to see me as _just some mage_." She couldn't help the hint of venom in her voice regarding those last three words. "He taught me a few skills that he thought would come in handy, archery the most enjoyable I think. Though I had managed to get him to promise to teach me how to duel wield, kind of like you do, even if I only ever used it as exercise." _Thunk_. She lowered her bow and turned to face the assassin. "I never got to see him fight, but in training… watching his movements was like a dance. Observing you and Leliana, I think he was a rogue too, all I know for sure was he was a remarkable man."

"You speak of him with some affection," Zevran noted, though there was no teasing in his tone.

She made her way towards to large rock he sat upon, and seated herself beside him. "Hard not to be fond of the man who rescues you," she smiled, noticing the fleeting look of confusion on his handsome face. "I was taken to the Tower when I was very young. I don't remember much about life before that, just my mother begging them not to take me away. She couldn't do much though, as she was heavily pregnant, which I suppose means I have a sibling out there somewhere."

"You do not know?" he interrupted, sounded genuinely surprised.

Trying to push aside the old hurt, Garnet shook her head, her gaze trained ahead at the tree she'd used for target practice. "Once you're in the Tower, that's it. Locked up and looking at a life where the only sunlight you see is through barred, vaulted windows and the only taste of real life you get to see is images in books. You may be breathing and your heart beating, but it's far from a life."

"Where was your father in this?" Zevran asked quietly.

A quick glance in his direction, let Garnet know he was regarding her with an unusual mix of intent, understanding and possibly even empathy. Her mouth twitched into an almost smile. "I don't know where he was when the Templar's came, possibly in hiding. From what Irving told me, he was an apostate."

"Irving?"

Her half smile turned into a full one and she turned to look at the Elf beside her. "The First Enchanter," she explained. "Closest thing to a father figure I suppose. I was his sole apprentice whilst I was studying and he often treated me like his own, rather than a pupil. He was one of the few good things I got from being taken to the Tower, that and the love of butter mints, but that's Irving's fault anyway." There was a chuckle from Zevran, and Garnet grinned at him. "So now that you've snooped out some of my past, care to answer some questions yourself?"

Zevran gave a groan, wholly unconvincing due to his smirk. "Go ahead."

"Why did you want to leave the Crows? Or was it purely due to imminent death?"

"Well now, I suppose that is a very fair question. Being an assassin is, after all, a living, at least as such things go. Though I suppose you won't just believe me if I say it was to come and serve the whims of a deadly sex goddess? No? Shame," he laughed. "I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So, if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?"

For some reason, Garnet got the distinct impression he was skirting the question, though supposed she would gain little from pressing the issue right now. "Is there anything you would rather do instead?"

The elf shifted his position, pulling one foot onto the rock they sat upon and propping his forearm across it. "Now that you mention it, I'm not entirely certain," he answered, actually seeming honest. "I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased, for three sovereigns I'm told. Which is a good price, considering I was ribs and bone, and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing but murder. If you do poorly in your training, you die." There was an edge to his voice as he spoke, something reminiscent with Garnet's feelings towards the Circle of Magi.

"That sounds awful," she said. The words slipping out before she could catch them. She winced inwardly. _'Idiot. Should have held your tongue!'_

Zevran gave an amused snort. "Oh, I don't know about that. The Crows that are actually good enough to survive end up enjoying some of the benefits," he explained and Garnet raised an eyebrow at him. "In Antivan, being a Crow gets you respect, it gets you wealth. It gets you women, and men, or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always, and it means you are expendable. Like your Tower, it is a cage. A gilded cage, pretty but confining."

She found herself giving the assassin a whole hearted smile. "I think I understand."

"I believe you do," he replied solemnly, before returning her smile. "As for what I will do in the future, presuming that there is one, I truly can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change."

"Zevran's Extermination Service?" Garnet joked. "No job to big or too small, unless it involves Grey Wardens."

He gasped, holding his hands to his heart in a theatrical show. "You well and truly wound me," he smirked. "However that is an idea, though far away from Antivan, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go."

"I'm happy to have you a long," she told him, the words once again slipping out before she could stop them. Yet, she fully meant the sentiment, despite their unorthodox meeting.

"And here I am, happy to be had," Zevran joked. Though Garnet caught the ripple of surprise in his eyes. "Isn't it wonderful how things work out that way?" Cadoc gave a happy sounding bark, almost as if he was agreeing, setting them both off laughing. "Come now," the elf smiled, sliding off the rock and offering her his hand. "Talking of the Crows summons them, any Antivan Fish Wife will tell you so."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Kundalini is meditation practise with Hindu origins, concentrating on 'breathing through the energy centres of the body'. I thought this sounded like a practice mage's might implement to control the flow/use of mana. **

**Information on Duncan comes from the DA:O wiki, as does Irving (bar the butter mints), and the idea for Garnet's family is due to a human mage's surname being Amell. Leandra Amell is the mother of DA2's protagonist, which yes, I'm hinting that the Warden is their sister and Malcolm Hawke was Leandra's husband. Makes sense if you think about it.**


	8. Rainstorm

**Rainstorm** (Zevran PoV)

Staring blindly into the dancing flames of the campfire, he finished off the remnants of his bowl of chicken stew, thankful that their stop in Denerim had allowed the purchasing of fresh supplies. There was only so many times you could endure meals made from cured, jerky meat or salt fish after all. However, as he blankly set the empty wooden bowl on the ground, his thoughts wandered back to his conversation with Garnet earlier in the evening. "I'm happy to have you a long," she had said. Her words stuck in his mind, and he was no less confused now than he was then. Outside of a sexual encounter, Zevran couldn't think of a time that anyone was happy for him to be around. Well, except for… _'No!'_ He shook his head, refusing to let memories come to surface.

Soft laughter brought him out of his reviver, and his eyes fell to the comely warden giggling at some stupid thing Alistair must have said, if the Templar's goofy grin was anything to go by. In the pit of his stomach, Zevran could feel _something_ begin to swell. Though before he could begin to question what that something was, there was an unexpected roll of thunder before a sudden downpour descended, quickly dousing out the fire in a hiss of steam. There was a shriek from Leliana, a low growl from the mabari and peal of delighted laughter from Garnet, before the entire camp erupted into a blur of motion. Everyone rushing to one tent or another for shelter. To his surprise, the warden ran past him, snagging his wrist as she passed with Cadoc close at her heels.

Without ceremony, the three of them all but crashed through the opening of her tent and landed in a twist of limbs. He would have found it pleasant, if not for the stinking, wet mabari that panted near his face. However, the beaming smile on Garnet's face that only he and Cadoc were privy too, somehow made up for it.

"Maker! I love the rain," she laughed as she untangled herself.

He was about to make a witty retort or other before he was rendered speechless by seeing the warden begin to unlatch the fastenings of her robes. _'Well now…'_ Zevran was intrigued, and watched eagerly as she turned her back towards him, the upper section of her robes falling away from her shoulders and revealing a tantalising expanse of pale skin. He hadn't realised what a saucy, confident minx she was. "You needn't have waited for a rainstorm to get me to your tent my ravishing warden, you need only ask," he smirked, reaching for her hips.

"Pervert," she chuckled, swotting his hands away. Without warning, Zevran found a blanket suddenly covering his head. "I like the rain, not wet clothing," Garnet continued, a smile sounding in her voice. Quickly, he removed the blanket, only to find she had already wrapped a grey woollen one around herself and was tying it about her neck. When she was done, it actually looked like some sort of halter dress. She turned, meeting his gaze. "You may want to do the same," she said, gesturing towards his own wet armour.

"Ah, once again, if you wanted me naked, you only need ask, my dear," he teased, letting his gaze wander appreciatively over her pleasing form.

"Keep trying," Garnet retorted, reaching for another blanket. _'How many does she have?!'_ And turned her attention to Cadoc.

Chuckling, he did as she advised, since there was little sense in remaining in soaking armour, though he was a little perturbed that she so ready turned her back to him. He was used to having women, and men, fall over themselves for a chance to see him naked. His looks were the reason the Crows had bought him, after all.

"Decent?" she asked, minutes later, just at the moment Zevran fasten the blanket around him in a style reminiscent of the toga's the royal princes liked to indulge in.

Her question surprised him, more so the realisation she had turned away to give him a modicum of privacy, rather than the fact she had asked. It was a novel idea, an oddly touching one. "That would be a matter of opinion, no?" he joked to cover his feelings.

"Tell me a little about Antiva," Garnet smiled, patting the pelt beside her in an invitation to sit.

Zevran readily obliged her silent request, seating himself more in her personal space than perhaps was necessary. The fact she didn't move away from him was interesting. "Oh, you wish to know about Antiva, do you?" he drawled, the heavy drumming of the rain on the tent's canvas highlighting one the very few similarities between the two countries. "The only way to be able to truly appreciate it, would be to go there."

"Then perhaps you need to paint me a picture as an incentive," she replied, a small shiver rippling through her body.

There was no thought as he wrapped an arm around the warden's bare shoulders, and surprisingly, even to himself, there was little ulterior motive. He would admit, if he were asked, that touching an alluring woman was pleasurable, but as Zevran absentmindedly rubbed her arm, his only intention was to heat up her chilled skin. For now, at least. "It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva, it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom. Or so the saying goes."

"And it grows assassins I believe," she quipped, an impish grin on her lips.

"Every land has it's assassins," he replied. "Some are simply more open about their business than others."

"True enough," she nodded, her smile softening to something sweeter. "So, where exactly are you from?"

"I hail from the glorious Antiva City," Zevran said proudly. "Home to the royal palace. It is a glitter gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from someplace comparable?"

"I'm not really sure," Garnet all but whispered, her gaze cutting away from him. "Like I said before, I don't really remember much before the Templars came, but I believe my family originated in Kirkwall. Though, I suppose the Tower is where I am from now, and that's certainly no glittering gem."

He could have kicked himself. For the majority of his life, he'd considered the Crows a cage. However, hearing the snippet the warden had given him of her life, he found himself thankful that his cage had been a lot more figurative than Garnet's literal Tower. "Ah, Cariño, that is too bad," he said gently, striving to keep his tone light. "If you were, surely you would spend as much time boasting about it as I do." That earned him a small chuckle from the lovely redhead beside him. "You know, it is most odd, we speak of my homeland and for all it's wine and dark haired beauties and piccolo flutes of the minstrels, I miss the leather the most."

There was a sputter from his companion. "Now this I have to hear, especially if that's some sort of euphemism."

Laughter escaped him, open and honest, for the first time since leaving Antiva. "It may as well be, but not this once, no. I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather making district, in a building where the Crows stowed their youngest recruits, packed in like crates. I grew accustom to the stench, though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day, the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home, more than anything else."

"Great, an elf with a leather fetish. If my boots ever go missing, guess I won't be blaming you," Garnet smiled, reaching over to ruffle the mabari's ears. "You sound like you've been away from home for an age," she continued, moving to rest her head on Zevran's shoulder.

He frowned for a moment, confused by her actions. On many occasions, he had seen the warden lean against Alistair, even Leliana and Bodahn. The times he had witnessed her doing it, had always left him with the impression of friendship and trust, which further added to his surprise for the current situation, not that it was unwelcome or unappealing. Merely unexpected. "Oh, not so long I know," he sighed, resisting the odd urge to rest his check atop her head. "It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly," he confessed. "Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship, ah… but I was a fool to leave them. I thought: 'Ah Zevran, you can buy them as a reward when you return for a job well done'. More the fool I, no?" Granted, that wasn't strictly true, as he hadn't really been sure he wanted or intended to return, but it was a good enough excuse to give.

"Job? You mean killing me, right?" Garnet asked quietly, though it seemed she didn't expect an answer. "Your home is still there, Zev."

It wasn't lost on him, that the warden chose to use the shortening of his name again, the one he told her only friends used. Even though he was unsure why that pleased him, a smile tugged at his lips all the same. "True, and it's a comforting thought. One simply never knows what is to come next. How could I expect to be defeated by a beautiful Grey Warden, a woman who then spares my life?" He chuckled at just how unplanned that part had been, and Cadoc gave a short bark, almost as if he was agreeing. _'That dog's too smart for his own good'_

The warden gave an amused snort. "Beautiful, is it?"

"I say you are beautiful because it is true," he replied honestly. Truthfully, he considered it a crime the Templars would lock up such an alluring creature as she. "Should I not?" he teased.

"No, by all means, smooth talker," Garnet laughed.

Oddly, Zevran found himself feeling relieved. Why? He wasn't sure, as it wasn't something he usually cared about. Flirting was just part of his nature after all. "I am glad to hear it. Now, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful, and hungry for a proper meal." Instead of an answer, the warden tried to stifle a yawn as she lifted her head from his shoulder. "It is good to know you find my stories so enthralling," Zevran teased, making a move to stand.

Once again, she surprised him when she caught his wrist. "Don't be silly. Still raining hard, plenty of room. Stay." Her voice was thick with sleep as she spoke, and a clap of thunder sounded overhead, as if to clarify her point.

For a silent moment, Zevran regard the woman he had tried to kill less than a week ago, whilst she settled herself down on the pelt. _'Is she really so quick to trust me?'_ At that moment, Cadoc flung himself down beside his mistress. A low, rumbling growl emitting from the mabari who watched him with almost black eyes. It made him realise, it was more the warden's trust in the hound, rather than himself, that was allowing her to make the offer. A flash of lightening forced his hand, however wary he was feeling, and he settled down on the pelt. Cadoc's bulky form a wall between himself and Garnet.

"More blankets, over there, if need…" she mumbled, pointing behind him, before trailing off and her hand landing on the dog's head.

Zevran bit back a chuckle. He was starting to think the mage had an obsession with woollen throws that rivalled his love of leather, and a quick glance in the direction she had indicated, began to confirm his suspicions. If the soft mound as any indication, she certainly liked to indulge.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Another play about with one of the in-game conversations. Amell's thoughts on her family home inspired by the DA:O wiki, and the chapter was mostly prompted by the thought that, for a mage who spent the majority of their life locked in a tower, everything about the real world must seem new and amazing. Even something as simple as rain.  
>Cariño translates to honeyaffection, from Spanish to English.**


	9. The Pearl

**The Pearl** (Amell PoV)

It was unusual for them to stay more than a few days in any one place, but their week in Denerim had proven fruitful. Bodahn had made several, lucrative deals out of the city's inhabitants, thanks to his fellow dwarven merchant, Gorim. Leliana had managed to put to rest part of her past, namely the betrayal of her one time mentor, and Garnet believed ex-lover. She, herself had spent the week either in the company of Morrigan browsing the shelves of Wonders of Thedas, or helping out Kylon, the Guard Sargent she had somehow befriended. Which was how she, Zevran, Leliana and Cadoc ended up in Denerim's infamous den of ill repute.

Garnet had noticed, that since their encounter with Ignacio, Zevran had elected to stay back at camp on guard duty with Sten, instead of venturing back into the city. Not that she blamed him. However, that had changed when she mentioned The Pearl. Not that she was exactly surprised, it was an establishment with a certain… reputation after all, and Garnet was sure that only men like Alistair was immune to it's allure. A little surprisingly though, it was Leliana who had accepted Senga's kind offer of choice _entertainment_ for the evening. Leaving herself and Zevran drinking the night away in one corner of the brothel's bar, with Cadoc snoring at their feet.

She couldn't help regard the elf's handsome face, her eyes tracing the lines of his tattoo. He seemed utterly relaxed, not that he ever seemed particularly tense, but there was a looseness to his posture. Garnet vaguely wondered if Ignacio's comment about Zevran being a whore's son was true, which could explain his current easiness. At that moment, he chose to turn his amber gaze away from his perusal of the bar room along with it's patrons, and back to her.

"Ah, to find the eyes of a deadly sex goddess upon me. I must be blessed, no?" he smirked.

Rolling her eyes, she returned his grin. "I'm surprised you're not enjoying the fine services The Pearl has to offer," she told him, gesturing to the shapely women and lean men that mingled with the other customers. Zevran openly flirted with practically everyone, making it hard to discern what his actual taste was.

"As _enticing _as these willing bodies are, none hold so much allure as the beauty sitting opposite me," he replied, raising his tankard in what seemed like a silent toast to her.

Chuckling, Garnet shook her head, dismissing his teasing. "You must have quite the history," she found herself saying. "With women, I mean," she added, hedging her bets as she noticing his eyes dart toward a particularly buxom barmaid that walked past their table.

For a brief second, a pensive look seemed to flash across his tanned face, but it was gone before she could be sure. Zevran's customary smile came back in full force. "This could be a sensitive topic, my dear lady, are you sure you wish to voyage there?"

Tilting her head, she regarded her companion. _'That many?'_ Garnet was never one to pry into other people's private lives, but his reply had really intrigued her. "I asked, didn't I?" she said, leaning her chin on the up turned palm of her right hand.

"As you wish," he all but sighed, before chuckling. "Let me start by saying my history is varied, indeed, it should also be noted that is has not been restricted to women. Does that offend you?" There was a slight quiver undercutting the question. It caught her more off guard than his revelation did.

"Should it?" she asked, genuinely surprised. Tower life may have consisted of the chantry avidly discouraging any sort of relationship that wasn't purely platonic, but as far as Garnet was concerned, as long as it was consensual, there was nothing wrong with anyone's preferences. _'Or lack of'_ she smiled to herself. "Though, just to be clear, in case I've drunk too much ale, you enjoy other men?"

There was an amused sounding snort from her companion. "I grew up among whores, my dear. Sex is best when done well, and truly that is my only rule. Do I prefer women? Yes… yes, I believe I do. But you must understand that a certain… open mindedness is sought by the Crows in their recruits, for very good reasons."

'_Sought or demanded?'_ she wondered, picking up on the edge in his voice towards the end of the sentence. As much as Garnet ached to asked, she wasn't going to push. "I think I understand," she smiled, before tossing back the remainder of her ale and signalling a barmaid for two more tankards.

"I cannot change me past, obviously, and I regret far more than the men and women I have been with," he told her, seeming surprisingly serious. "If that is more than you can bare, then it is good we know now, yes?"

Her brow furrowed at his words. _'What the Maker?'_ If he'd been speaking in his usual, teasing tone, Garnet would have written his words off as some strange flirting. However there seemed an undercurrent to that question she could not fathom, nor was she sure if she wanted to know. "We all have past," she found herself saying, cryptically. Immediately, she noticed a slight tenseness to his shoulders that only enhanced her confusion. "Though it doesn't bother me, Zev," she added with a reassuring smile.

"You're a better person than most. But enough talk of the past, it is what lies ahead, no?" he chuckled, shaking his head. "This is a new path I am on now. It will be interesting to see where it leads, already is has been many new things."

At that moment, the barmaid arrived with their fresh drinks. Absentmindedly, Garnet tipped the woman, before raising her drink in a toast mimicking Zevran's actions earlier. "To the road less travelled."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**So a bit of location, dialogue and timeline jiggling from the game, but really what better place to discuss Zevran's sexual past than in a whore house? **


	10. Road to Redcliffe

**Road to Redcliffe** (Zevran PoV)

It had been a week since they had left Denerim, and were on route to Redcliffe. Unusually, it was Morrigan and Sten who led the eclectic group. With Zevran, Leliana, Wynne, Bodahn and Sandal flanking the wagon, and the two Grey Wardens along with Cadoc guarding the rear. Zevran's ears twitched at the sound of the Templar's voice, and instinct told him to drop back a few steps to be able to hear the warden's conversation.

"I'm wondering something, I'd like to know your thoughts on some of our… travelling companions. Do you mind if I ask?" the man said.

Zevran couldn't explain why the sound of Garnet's giggle made him want to both smile and scowl. "You just did, didn't you? Go ahead, I don't mind," she replied.

"Zevran, the elf. You can't trust him… can you?" Alistair stated, his distaste evident in his voice. "Do you believe his… so called vow?"

Clenching his jaw, Zevran's hand reflexively went for the dagger strapped to his hip, he positively bristled. The oath he had made to Garnet had been truthful, the vow was to her and not the Templar. Sure he was an assassin, but despite what others might think, he did have integrity. The mage had spared his life, he was indebted to her, and even without the threat of the Crows, Zevran was starting to think he would stand by her anyway. However, Alistair's slight at his heritage set him even more on edge. He had thought the man was simply against him for his attempt on their lives, but he couldn't help wondering if the Templar was a bigot as well.

"Oh, so he's 'the elf' now? Not 'the assassin', hmm?" Garnet asked. Her tone was teasing, though Zevran thought he heard a slight undercurrent to it.

'_Is she annoyed?'_ Oddly, the thought pleased him.

"Oh, damn it. That's not what I meant," Alistair flustered.

"I would hope not," the mage replied. "But to answer your question, yes. I do."

"Really? Why? That's a lot of trust to put in someone who tried to kill you," the Templar countered.

Unfortunately, and as loathed as Zevran was to admit it, Alistair did have a point. He knew he was being honest, he really had no plans on betraying the mage, or harming her in anyway. Though, as much as he was glad she did, Garnet had very little reason to believe that.

"Leliana might call it faith. Morrigan would probably call it gut instinct. All I can say is that I'm willing to give him a chance. Besides, it's not like he's the first person who tried to kill me and I've forgiven," she replied. "Arguably, you and Duncan gave it a good go, and trust me… the Harrowing is hardly a happy affair."

"Hmm… Well if you are, then maybe I should too," Alistair relented, though still sounding reluctant.

Before anything else was said, Morrigan called out, indicating that a likely campsite had been found for the night. As he went about his jobs to help set up, Zevran's mind worked frantically to file away all the relevant pieces of information. First and foremost, Garnet had forgiven him. Which truly spoke of how unusual a person she was. Granted, he had already begun to realise that when she first spared his life, then when she didn't appear the least little bit bothered by his previous exploits. Zevran still wasn't sure why he had admitted so much during their conversation at The Pearl, it wasn't something he had ever done outside of fellow Crows. Those lucky enough to live a life that didn't involve a whorehouse, or being a slave, looked down on who had. Especially on an elf, all except the enchanting redhead.

He shook his head, in a feeble attempt to clear his mind. Never had a woman clouded his thoughts so, and it wasn't even just in a sexual sense. Which scared him. Not that he didn't want to bed her, far from it. She was delectable, and given half a chance, he would gladly seize upon it. No, it was more than that. He actually enjoyed her company, even when the conversation contained no innuendo what-so-ever. It was a frightening realisation, especially when his mind chose to begin to wonder about what would happen once the blight was over. What would he do? What would she do? Would he still be welcome? Which was what led Zevran to reach out and catch Garnet's elbow, as she walked past his newly erected tent.

"Zev, everything ok?" she smiled. Her smile wasn't flirtatious, or guarded, or calculating. It was open and honest. The smile that seemed like she was actually glad to see him, the one that always caught him off guard.

"I've a question, if I may," he asked, hoping his tone didn't sound as hesitant as he felt.

"Of course, but mind if I put these down first?" Garnet glanced down at the armful of books she held.

"Why, a beautiful lady such as yourself should not need to carry her own things," he chuckled, feeling more in his element as he moved to take the load. "Please allow me."

"Thank you." Her smile seemed even brighter than before. "So what did you want to discuss?" she asked, leading him to her tent.

Zevran hummed thoughtfully for a moment, using the books as an excuse for his quietness, as he stacked them carefully. "Here's the thing," he said at last, settling himself on the ground. "I swore an oath to serve you, yes? And I understand the quest you're on, and this is all very fine and well… but my question pertains to what you intent to do with me, once this business is over with. Just as a point of curiosity, you understand." Now that he had asked, the question and worry seemed even more _juvenile_ than it did in his head.

"Do with you?" Garnet repeated, almost like she was speaking a thought aloud. For a moment, her brow furrowed, her beautiful face looking utterly confused as she knelt beside him. Then her smile was back, and her green eyes sparkled with mischief. "Is this before or after I ravish you in celebration."

Sexual innuendo and suggestive flirting, now this he could do. Zevran outright laughed at her cheeky look, earning himself disapproving looks from both Wynne and Alistair. "Now… there's a thought. Normally, I'm the one doing the ravishing when it comes to comely lasses. I like it," he smirked. "But you are also distracting me from the point. I said I would serve until you release me. One simply assumes that once your Grey Warden business was finished, you… would have no need for an assassin to follow you about. Am I wrong?"

"I'm sure I will always find a use, or two, for a handsome elf," she winked before she grew serious. Unexpectedly, she took hold of both his hands in hers. Out of the corner of his eye, Zevran noticed the Templar glaring at them, though he paid him no heed. "Though honestly Zev," Garnet continued. "I don't hold you to any oath. You can leave whenever you like." There was a flash of emotion in her green eyes, _'Sadness perhaps?'_ then she gently squeezed his hands before letting go.

For a heartbeat, he sat there in shock. He recovered quickly however, his trademark smirk slipping effortlessly in place to hide his surprise. "Oh? I made the oath willingly, but if that is how you see it then… all the better. Though, for the moment, it's still best I stay. Considering my standing with the Crows." Mentally, Zevran applauded himself. That sounded a very believable excuse, one even _he_ almost believed.

"Of course. It would be a shame to spare your life, only for you to get your handsome self killed a few short weeks later," Garnet teased.

"Exactly," he agreed, subtly sucking in a breath to steady the nerves he wasn't accustomed to feeling. Why the mage affected him so, he couldn't stay. They hadn't so much as kissed, yet she made him forget everything he'd ever been taught, trained to do. Even caused him the think and, Maker forbid, possibly feel things he hadn't before. "Though, supposing I didn't desire to leave when the time came, what then?" Now, calling on a lifetime of being simply used, Zevran steeled himself for the rejection he was sure to come.

"I have no idea what's going to happen after this 'Grey Warden Business' is done, but I would always welcome your company," she smiled. "Though why wouldn't you leave, if you had the chance?"

Truthfully, Zevran found he couldn't give a solid answer, none that wouldn't crack his carefully maintained façade. Probably because she had sounded so genuine when saying she would welcome his company. He caught his shoulders sagging in relief, so instead of showing how much he was effected, Zevran turned the movement into a shrug. "It is simply good to know what my options might be. But that is for another time, for now, we have much to do. Yes?"

"Dinner!" Leliana called from the campfire.

"Like eat," Garnet grinned, playfully pulling him to his feet.

As she turned to join the others, Zevran took a moment to regard the mage. Really, it would not be a bad thing to stay by her side, though it would be nicer if it wasn't on a purely platonic basis as it was now. Rubbing his face, he sighed, only to be answered by a whine near his feet. Glancing down, he regarded the mabari that looked up at him with curious eyes. "I am losing my touch, my friend." There was an all-too-happy yap from the dog, almost in agreement, that caused Zevran to chuckle. This was turning out to be the most unusual chapter of his life yet, and that wasn't even taking into account fighting darkspawn.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**I'm wondering if I'm the only one who thought the normally cocky Zevran seemed nervous during this dialogue in game? Or noticed that Alistair calling Zev 'the elf' could be a racial slur. Hmm… **


	11. Revelations

**Revelations** (Amell PoV)

As they crested the hill, Redcliffe castle came into view. It was a fairly impressive structure and was, unsurprisingly, built from reddish-brown stone. A small waterfall gushed down the mountainside, presumably powering the mill that could be seen in the near distance. Just as Garnet was contemplating the best course of action whilst they were in the sleepy looking village, Alistair approached her.

"Look, can we talk for a moment?" he asked, his hand on the small of her back gave the impression whatever he wanted to discuss needed privacy.

Nodding, she led him off to the side, within sight of the group but out of easy hearing range. "Sure," she smiled encouragingly.

"I need to tell you something, I… um… should probably have told you earlier," Alistair bumbled.

Holding back a sigh, Garnet rubbed the bridge of her nose. The Templar stumbling over his words was usually a bad sign. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" she asked, trying to keep her smile in place, though tactfully turning her back to the rest of her companions.

"I don't know, I doubt it. I've never liked it, that's for sure," Alistair admitted, mimicking her stance. "I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? And that my mother was a serving girl at the castle when he took me in? The reason he did that was because… well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my… half-brother, I suppose."

Closing her eyes, Garnet let the information sink in. "So… you're not only a bastard, but a royal one?" Why she let the first thing she thought out of her mouth, she wasn't sure. _'Must be spending too much time with Zevran!'_ Really, it didn't bother her. Sure, it would have been nice to have been told sooner, but it didn't change anything. He was still sweet, silly Alistair as far as she was concerned.

Alistair snorted, in a very princely way, obviously. "Ha! I guess it does at that. I should use that line more often." He shuffled from foot to foot, the action screaming of how uncomfortable he actually was. "I would have told you, but it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule, so they kept me secret. I've never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it, or they coddled me. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it." Sighing wearily, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't want you to know as long as possible, I'm sorry."

"You know, being a mage, you being a Templar was a fairly sure fire way to make me not like you. If I can look past that, a little royal-ness is hardly an issue," Garnet smiled, leaning her weight against his arm. Not that inches thick armour made it comfortable, but it was a lot let risky than a hug.

"Ah, good. I'm glad. It's not like I got special treatment for it anyhow. At any rate, that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I just thought you should know about it."

Looking up at his greater height, Garnet adopted a slight faux scowl. Standing with her arms folded under her bust as she did. "Are you sure you're not hiding anything else?"

"Apart from my unholy love of fine cheese and a minor obsession with my hair? No that's it," he grinned.

"I said _hiding_," she chuckled, shaking her head as she turned back to the rest of the group. "Right, let's make our way down the hill. Bodahn, you might want to secure the wagon near the windmill. The path looks too steep to make it down. Zevran, Morrigan, you're with me and Alistair. The four of us will head for the castle, the rest of you take a look around the town. Trade for supplies, look to see if there's anywhere we can bed down for the night."

With agreements made, they set off towards the stone bridge that crossed the rapidly flowing water. Only to be halted by a would-be archer, dressed in a faded blue tunic. "Ah, I thought I saw travellers coming down the road, though I scarcely believed it. Have you come to help us?"

"What do you mean? Is there a problem?" Garnet asked without hesitation.

"So you… don't know? Has nobody out there heard?" the man asked, sounding genuinely shocked.

"There's news Arl Eamon is sick, if that's what you mean?" Alistair replied.

"He could be dead, for all we know. Nobody has heard from the castle in days. We're under attack. Monsters come out of the castle, every night, and attack us until dawn. Everyone's been fighting… and dying."

"We'll that's just typical, isn't it," Zevran muttered.

"Apparently, everybody seems to agree that a blight is the perfect time to start killing each other," Morrigan agreed, her voice dripping in sarcasm. "Marvellous, really."

Garnet flashed the pair of them a sly smile, biting back her laughter for Alistair's sake. His humour, though dry, was not as dark as theirs. However, she already knew they would be helping, talking with the archer was only delaying the inevitable. "Without the Arl, who is in charge then?" she asked.

"Bann Teagan. I should take you too him, if you will follow me?" the archer motioned to lead the way, and a nod from Garnet had the others following.

"Bann Teagan is Arl Eamon's brother," Alistair enlightened them, as they made their way down the steep and winding path.

"Brother or no, have we not learnt our lesson from agreeing to help strangers we meet in our path?" Morrigan drawled.

"And why is that? O magical temptress," Zevran enquired, in his usual manner, causing both Garnet and the witch to roll their eyes.

"Because last time we did, a roguishly good looking assassin tried to kill us," Garnet laughed, winking over her shoulder at him.

"Do you have to encourage him?" Alistair grumbled, practically stomping down the dirt path.

"Ah, my fine strapping fellow, that would imply that your lovely, fellow Grey Warden would need to do anything to encourage my worship of her," Zevran chuckled. "Or do you not see that she is a goddess made flesh. Very fine flesh at that."

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Morrigan whispered in her ear.

Trying to reign in her grin, and failing miserably, Garnet regarded the other woman. "Perhaps," she admitted.

The witch gave her an approving look. "For a mage, you are a very wicked woman, Amell."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**So, not a strictly Zevran/Amell chapter, but I think there may be a few chapters involving Redcliffe stemming from ideas I've had whilst playing the game again, and this was the first of them!**


	12. Missing Child

**Missing Child** (Zevran PoV)

Whilst the lovelier of the two Grey Wardens discussed the town's situation with Bann Teagan, an averagely attractive and dull sounding man as far as he was concerned, Zevran took the chance to subtly survey the chantry. It was mostly an unremarkable stone building, though the single entrance afforded it a tactical edge to keeping the _evil_, whatever that meant around these parts, out. Yet it could also serve to make the chantry a mausoleum, should the building be overrun. Another glance around the room informed him that Alistair had moved away to speak to a knight, and the Morrigan seemed engrossed in an old tomb. However, Garnet's voice brought him back to the conversation in front of him, fairly quickly.

"Flatterer," she all but giggled, causing Zevran's jaw to clench. Why? He was not sure.

"If I man be so bold, what of you my lady? Are you married?" the Bann asked, causing Zevran's eyes to narrow in suspicion.

"No, I am not," Garnet replied, a coy undertone in her voice.

"I find that hard to believe. Surely that is a crime somewhere. But I am too bold, this is hardly the time for such banter," Teagan stated, something Zevran agreed with. "Please, accept my apology."

"What the Maker for? I'm not offended."

"You are too kind, my lady. Amongst many other things."

Zevran, though impressed and intrigued with the warden's flirty manner, had heard enough. If anyone was to charm the mage, it would be him. "Ah, my dear Grey Warden, is it not time to see to the town's defences?" he enquired, moving so close to her side that their bodies were almost touching. Something he was sure the Bann would noticed immediately.

Garnet gave him an easy smile, one that spoke of familiarity and, possibly, comradery. "You're right Zev," she agreed before turning her attention back to the Teagan. "We will see what we can do, and report back to you before nightfall." With that decided, the pair headed for the exit. Alistair and Morrigan quickly following them. Though, before they reached the heavy oak doors, a snivelling young woman caught Garnet's attention.

He watched, as the mage lay a hand gently on the woman's shoulder. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?" Her voice was soft, almost tender.

When the crier looked up, Zevran was astonished with how young she was. Barely a teen, possibly about the age he had been when he made his first kill. "Those _things_ dragged my mother away," the girl snivelled. "I don't know what happened to her, but I hear her screaming, all the time. Everywhere. And now my brother, Bevin, he ran off. I… I don't know where he is. I'm so scared they got him too." A sob racked the girl's body.

It was a sad tale, but what could be done? Nothing, as far as Zevran could see. It seemed the mage had other ideas however, for she quickly offered to look for the boy. "Is she always like this?" he muttered to Morrigan, already suspecting the answer.

"Alas, Amell is sorely afflicted by the driving need to be nice," the witch scoffed. "And I will have no part of it. Time would be better spent scouting the area."

"Good idea," Garnet smiled, seemingly finished comforting the girl. "Morrigan, grab Leliana and do a sweep of the town. Alistair, go speak with the mayor. Zevran and I will look for the boy, then meet you at the windmill to talk with Ser Perth."

Despite believing that looking for the child was pointless, he wasn't about to turn down time alone with the mage. It was yet another chance to charm her, after all, if nothing more. Without further ado, they made their way towards the docks, and entered a house that presumably belonged to the young woman and her brother. On first glance, the building appeared empty. Though a heartbeat of silence let his sensitive ears pick up a small sound coming from the room adjacent to the one they stood in. Keeping quiet, Zevran indicated where they should head and a moment later, the pair were stood in front of a large armoire. Snivelling could be heard from inside.

"Hello? Who's there?" Garnet called in a soft voice.

"Go away. This isn't your home. This is my home. My home, you hear me," came the muffled response. It was evident the voice was that of a young boy.

"Bevin? Is that you?" the mage asked, her voice turning even kinder. Zevran winced at the tone, it reminded him of how he used to watch other children and their mothers during the weekend markets back in Antiva. It reminded him of what he had never had.

"How… how do you know my name?"

"I'm Kaitlyn's friend. I was speaking to your sister in the chantry," Garnet explained patiently. It was a stark contrast to what he would have experienced as a child. He remember once hiding as this Bevin did, only to have the doors of the armoire thrown open and to be forcibly dragged out by one of the whores. He had been beaten so badly, his arm was broken.

"Did she tell you to take me back to the chantry? Don't make me go back there," the boy pleaded, still securely in his hiding spot. "I hate that place. I hate it."

"Why do you hate it?" Garnet asked, pulling up a nearby stood and sitting down. Zevran wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or simply stare. The warden was seemingly quite prepared to have a full conversation with a child _through_ the closed door of an armoire. He couldn't believe the patience she was showing. Unable to think of anything else to do, Zevran followed her lead, and perched on the edge of the bed. Deciding he was simply going to use this as an exercise to study the mage.

"Everybody's is scared, but they tell me I shouldn't be scared. And they tell me… I shouldn't be sad that mother died," the boy broke off, sounding like he was trying not to cry. Though he wouldn't admit it, Zevran's heart went out to the child. He well remember the feeling of being so confused and helpless. "I don't want to be sad. I'm brave, I'm going to be a hero. I'm going to fight them off, I will."

"From in there?" Zevran couldn't help but scoff, and watched as Garnet's mouth twitched into a smile as she shook her head at him.

"No… no," Bevin relented, causing the mage to stand. "I just heard you coming and, I guess that's not very brave of me, is it?" With that, a blonde haired boy wearing a white shirt and brown leather jerkin emerged from the armoire. If it hadn't been for the rounded ears, Zevran would had sworn he was looking at a, less grubby, version of his younger self. "Alright, I came out. You won't hurt me, will you?"

Without hesitation, Garnet dropped down to her knees so that her face was level with Bevin's. "Of course not," she soothed. "And you are brave, don't let anyone tell you different." Zevran watched, as she held out a hand to the boy. After a moment's hesitation, Bevin flung his arms around Garnet's neck, nearly knocking her of balance.

It wasn't a surprise that the boy was seeking comfort in her, after all the warden was pretty and kind, the type of person that was always the 'good-guy' in stories. What did surprise Zevran, was how readily Garnet hugged the child back. As Bevin began to sob, she simply held him, rocking back and forth, humming a comforting tune as she did. The tenderness caused Zevran to look away, it was something he had long for as a child. Affection. Someone to be there for him, to chase the preverbal monsters away. Instead, it was a life of being ignored, or beaten, then sold to the Crows like a commodity of low value. Which, reluctantly, Zevran supposed he was.

"I'll go back to the chantry, if you want?" Bevin sniffled.

"That would be a very good idea, and Kaitlyn will be happy to see you," Garnet agreed, moving to stand. When the boy went to hold her hand, the mage didn't push him away, or give him a clip around the ear. She accepted it, like it was the most natural thing in Thedas to do.

As the three of them headed back to the chantry, Zevran purposefully walked a few paces behind. Occasionally, his keen hearing would pick up an odd snippet of a story Bevin was telling Garnet, something about his Grandfather being a dragon hunter and a sword. Mostly, he was simply lost in thought as he regarded the pair. An unusual ache settling in his chest, one that Zevran couldn't decipher.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**So, just an idea I had whilst playing through Origins. Trying to reveal some of Zevran's past whilst the game is progressing as we know it does. **


	13. A Face from the Past

**A Face from the Past** (Amell)

"Hello? Is there someone out there?"

'_It can't been!'_ The lone voice that called out from the gloom twisted her stomach into knots. It had been many months since she had last heard it, and Redcliffe dungeon was the last place she suspected to hear it again.

"Please, identify yourself."

'_It has to be'_ Leaving her companions behind, Garnet set off at a run. Only the dim, flickering torches lighting her path as she headed in the direction of the voice. Finally halting at the last cell, where her stomach dropped.

"By all that is holy, it's you," the owner of the voice stated, hauling himself to his feet aided by the heavy metal bars that caged him.

"Jowan?" she croaked past the lump in her throat. Her old friend looked terrible, thin and haggard. His robes torn and face bruised. Without thinking, Garnet reached through the bars, catching his hand and casting the most powerful healing spell she could muster.

"I can't believe it," Jowan shook his head, pulling away from her touch once the pale green light of her magic had faded. "And here I thought things couldn't get any worse. Brilliant. Go on, have a go at me, if that's what you want. Gloat away."

"I'd never do that," she gasped, her eyes growing wide with shock. "It pains me to see you like this."

"Oh, thank you for your tired platitudes," the other mage hissed. "Whatever would I do without your sympathetic words to carry me through the long, cold nights?"

"I'm sorry Jowan, truly I am," Garnet apologised. There wasn't a day she didn't mull over what had happened. Futilely wondering if she had done the right thing, if there had been a way to help him before he had gotten himself in the situation he had.

"You think that makes it better?! You expect this to be easy, like your whole life has been easy?! Apologise and suddenly we're friends again?!" he shouted.

'_Easy?!' _The word tumbled in her head. How had her life been easy? Sure, she took to her studies easily, mostly out of need to distract herself from the heartache from being removed from her parents. She had suffered the oppressive knowledge that her life would be spent locked up in the Tower's grey walls, no longer able feel the sun or wind on her skin. Adapting to the situation did not mean she had found it easy, it meant she survived.

"I've been running since I last saw you. I've slept in ditches, rotten logs, in the rain. I've gone hungry for weeks. I was lost, utterly alone. You expect me to just forget this happened?" he demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

So distracted was she, that Garnet hadn't realised the others had joined her. It was only when a tanned arm flashed past her face, quickly grasping Jowan by the front of his robes and bodily dragging him to the bars, did Garnet realise Zevran was by her side.

"I would suggest, my friend, you show the Grey Warden more respect," he all but growled.

As Jowan gaped, eyes wide with shock, Garnet lay a hand on the elf's outstretched arm. "Zev, it's alright," she assured, squeezing his forearm, though unable to meet his questioning gaze.

Zevran's free hand came up, tilting her chin so she was forced to look at him in the eyes. "Are you sure, Cariño?" he asked. His voice held an unexpected softness to it, and Garnet found herself simply nodding in response. After giving Jowan an impressive glare, he relented and released his hold on the mage.

'_Cariño?'_ she wondered briefly, before turning her attention back to Jowan. "You're a blood mage. Only you are to blame for the path you have followed," she stated, feeling some of her guilt being replaced by anger. "Though if you would like to play this game, do you know how it feels to have hundreds of you brethren massacred by darkspawn? How it feels to kill an abomination and wonder if that was someone you went to class with, or a child you once mentored. And whilst we are on the subject, was it Uldred who introduced you to blood magic?"

"How did you… no," Jowan stopped himself. "Before I say anything else, I need to ask you a question." When he paused and sighed, some of Garnet's anger dissipated and she nodded, already suspecting what he would ask. "You can do whatever you feel you need to afterward, but I need to know. What became of Lily? They didn't hurt her, did they? The thought that she might have paid for my crime…" He leant his forearms against the bars, and hung his head, staring resolutely at the floor between his feet.

"They sent her away, I don't know where," she admitted quietly.

"What have I done?" he muttered before lifting his head to meet her gaze. "So, here we are again, just the two of us. So what happens now?"

Despite the fact that there were three other people in the dank chamber, Garnet understood what he meant. What he was asking. "First, I need to know if you are responsible for what's happened here."

"I know it looks suspicious, but I am not responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle, you have to believe me," Jowan begged. "I was already imprisoned when all that began. Not that the Arlessa cared, she had me… tortured, to get me to confess what I had not done. When that didn't work, they left me to rot."

"I'm going to guess you are the one who poisoned the Arl, I want to know why." Despite how her heart went out to her old friend, Garnet's voice remained even and firm. Something she was proud of.

"I was instructed to do it by Teryn Loghain. I was told Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, and that if I dealt with him, Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. All I wanted was to be able to return, but he abandoned me here, didn't he?"

"And a lot more besides," Garnet sighed, before glancing at Zevran, who had barely moved from her side. "Do you think you can pick the lock?"

"As you wish, mi querida," the elf replied, flashing her a quick smile as he set about opening the door.

"Hey, hey. He's a blood mage, you can't just set one free," Alistair argued, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Is that Alistair talking, or the Templar?" Morrigan sneered.

With more venom than she intended, Garnet rounded on her fellow warden. "Blood mage or no, he's my brother, I won't fail him again," she hissed, pushing his hand away. Not waiting for a response, she turned back to the cell. She didn't care if they didn't understand, though she suspected Morrigan would, and the knowing look Zevran gave her, led Garnet to believe the assassin might have an idea as well.

"Thank you my friend," Jowan said, a tight smile on his lips. "I'm sorry I lashed out at you before, I wanted to blame someone for what's happened to me, but… I know you had your reasons."

The next ten minutes were spent with Garnet, Morrigan and Jowan debating possible courses of action, all stemming from Jowan's information regarding the Arl's son being a mage. For their part, the other two remained silent. Alistair off to the side brooding, no doubt, and Zevran meticulously working away on the lock, until there was a very welcome clink, and the door swung open on ominously creaky hinges. It was quickly decided that Jowan would search the nearby cellars for any survivors, whilst Garnet and her companions resumed their intended course to the heart of the castle. Alistair refused to look at her as he stomped ahead, though Morrigan offered her a rare smile.

"That was a fine choice," the witch stated, slipping past her and up the stairs. Jowan followed behind, leaving Garnet and Zevran alone in the dim passage.

The elf halted her by baring the archway with his arm. "Are you alright, Cariño?" he asked, his accented voice surprisingly serious.

"I… will be," she gave a half smile, feeling there was little point lying. "Thank you." Without thinking, she kissed his cheek lightly, just as she would have done to any of her friends back in the Tower.

For a moment, he looked surprised. Though he quickly recovered, cupping her face gently with his hands. "Me temo que usted cuida demasiado, se va a hacer daño," Zevran said in a low whisper, before he kissed her.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Another, not strictly Amell/Zevran, but something I wanted to touch on, because seriously, anyone else amazed at how easily it was to open Jowan's cell door, without any visible key? Also, with him wanting to help, surely Jowan could search for (and find) Owen's daughter.**

**Spanish translations: Cariño means honey (or affection), used as a term of endearment. Mi querida means my dear/my darling. 'Me temo que usted cuida demasiado, se va a hacer daño' roughly translates to 'I fear you care too much, it will hurt you'.**


	14. Trouble in the Tower

**Trouble in the Tower** (Zevran PoV)

How he kept ending up in these sorts of situation, Zevran wasn't sure, but it didn't much matter. Not when there was an angry Templar's blade trapped between his two daggers, and the annoying trickle of blood that was steadily running into his glove. As he glared into the eyes of his opponent, Zevran let part of his mind analyse the events leading up to this situation. Back in Redcliffe dungeons, he'd kissed Garnet. Granted, not the ideal romantic set up he'd have liked, but he just couldn't help himself. And it had only been a chaste kiss, nothing steamy or erotic as he would have preferred, but Zevran was certain that was a good starting point for the chain of events.

They had then followed Alistair and Morrigan into the castle proper, whilst Garnet's old friend Jowan had gone in search for survivors. So far, so good. Until they came to the Main Hall, to find that the evil that had inflicted itself on the town, stemmed from the Arl's young son, who has been possessed by a demon. Not so good. Then Jowan had reappeared, suggesting a way to rid the boy of the demon. However, it was a blood ritual, naturally. Though it _was_ the fastest solution, Alistair had baulked against the idea, and persuaded his fellow Grey Warden to seek an alternative, which Garnet readily agreed to do. Which was far from surprising.

What had been surprising, was when she ordered the majority of their eclectic group to remain at Redcliffe castle, only asking himself to accompany her and Cadoc to the Circle Tower. Zevran had seen how the Templar's eyes had narrowed when she only chose to take a singular tent, though he'd paid Alistair little heed. One kiss did not a seduction make, and Zevran had no illusion that traveling so lightly was out of logic, rather than intended debauchery by the mage, however much he would have liked that to be the case.

It had taken them a little over a day to travel the winding path from Redcliffe to the Tower, mostly thanks to a fine mare that Bann Teagan had leant them. The crossing of Lake Calenhad had been, thankfully, uneventful. Though Zevran would never admit just how worried the thought of magical beast inhabiting the water had made him, regardless of Garnet's assurances that none existed. Upon arriving at the Tower, everything had seemed fine. A grey bearded man called Irving, apparently the First Enchanter, had greeted the warden with a wide smile and readily agreed to help with the ritual to save the Arl's son. So whilst Irving went about his business, packing whatever mage's had to pack, Garnet had offered to show him around her old home. Zevran had happily agreed, imagining it may give some insight into the woman he had pledged himself too, and it had.

He had watched how the children had flocked to her when they had entered the Apprentice Quarters. The friendly hug she had shared with a fellow redheaded mage called Petra, and how she'd shown an elven mage, named Eadric, how to cast a spell that created what Garnet called a 'light wisp'. They had then made their way to the Library, and even Zevran had to admit it was an impressive room. He could well imagine a young Garnet spending her free hours in the dimly lit space, pouring herself over heavy tomes, much like she enjoyed doing now. He had been slightly surprised when she had made what appeared to be a beeline for a specific book shelf, and had quickly produced a large book, bound in red leather and glided with gold leaf. As Zevran couldn't read ancient Tevinter, the pair had huddled under the flickering light of a candelabra, with Garnet reading to him in a hushed tone. That's when it had happened.

They had both looked up as someone shouted her name, only to see a Templar rushing towards them, his sword draw. If Zevran was to explain what had happened next, he would have joked about how he was merely protecting his interests, since the Grey Warden was his best bet of staying out of the Crow's clutches, and very few things existed to rival the passion of 'rescue sex'. However, the truth of the matter was that he had moved on instinct. Stepping in front of Garnet, and blocking the man's path to the mage, had been automatic. As much as that worried him. It had been sloppy to allow the long sword's blade to slice over his forearm, but it hadn't cut too deep, and Zevran doubted that the Templar's employed the use of poisons. So permanent damage was very unlikely, even before he factored in the healing spell he could already feel weaving around his body thanks to Garnet.

His keen hearing picked up the sound of heavy mailed boots running, along with the distinct swishing of robes brushing the smooth, stone floor at a hurried pace. "Warden, tell your associate to stand down," bellowed a voice. One Zevran could only guess came from a man in authority.

"Not until you get your Templar under control, Knight-Commander," Garnet spat, the venom so clear, it even surprised Zevran.

"Greagoir, I would suggest you do as the Grey Warden asks," Irving stated calmly.

"Of course, First Enchanter," the Templar replied. "Cullen, stand down. That is an order."

As his foe followed the command, Zevran's mind jumped at the idea of sinking his left blade into the man's unprotected neck, however he simply settled on smirking. With exaggerated show, he sheathed his daggers, keeping his hands on their pommels. "I do not know what your issue is _friend_, but rest assured, if you move against the warden again, I will cut you down," he promised and Cadoc growled as if adding his own threat.

"Do not speak to me, you filthy elf," Cullen hissed, murder in his crazed eyes. "You weren't here, you don't…"

"How dare you?!" Garnet grit out through obviously clenched teeth. An orange-red aura surrounded her, and Zevran could feel a prickle of heat as she moved past him to face the Templar. "You have no right to speak to my friend like that, or any other elf for that matter."

Friend. The word resonated through him. Was it friendship that had caused him to block the attack? Zevran couldn't say. It was very new notion for him.

"Let me handle it, warden," the Knight-Commander requested.

With a nod, Garnet turned her back on the two Templars, the aura fading, and her verdant eyes finding Zevran's. "Thank you," she smiled, cupping his cheek with her hand, just as Greagoir was demanding an explanation.

"That!" Cullen shouted. "Don't you see? First they tortured me with visions of her, the object of my ill-advised infatuation, and now she mocks me, evil witch. She let them live and deserves to die."

Zevran was seriously beginning to suspect that the young Templar was quite possibly mad, but as Garnet's eyes widened and her hand dropped, he was left to mourn the loss of her touch as she whirled back around. "Cullen, what happened to you was abhorrent, no one denies that, but Uldred was to blame. And he is dead, I killed him. Irving was not possessed, and he is not a blood mage, something your Knight-Commander will vouch for?" Greagoir nodded his agreement before the warden continued. "He did nothing that would warrant his death, nor did the other two mages I rescued, so they deserved to live. And I have done nothing to mock you, we were reading when you attacked."

"A likely story," Cullen scoffed. "No doubt you were trying to ensnare him with some dark magic."

Unable to hold it back, Zevran outright laughed at the accusations. "Oh, my dear misguided Templar, I can quite assure you, the Grey Warden needs no arcane ritual to enchant me. She already has."

"You see!" the Templar demanded, making a move to grab Garnet, only to be halted by Zevran's dagger at his neck.

"Yes, you see she managed it quite easily and very quickly," he continued, conversationally. The smirk still on his lips, but a dangerous look in his eyes. "She let me live, after I tried to kill her, even offered protection from those who had sent me, and I vowed to serve her. Now, this wicked woman is so deranged, she released me from my oath, our quest barely begun, telling me she supports whatever I decide. So what is one to do? Elf, human or otherwise. I am her man, without reservation."

By the time Zevran had finished speaking, Greagoir had a wide eyed look, the First Enchanter was looking at Garnet intently, and the Templar had turned an interesting shade of red. One that Alistair would have been proud of. The warden, for her part, merely sighed. It was a tired sound, though she flashed him a half smile all the same. "Zev," she admonished quietly, shaking her head.

"If I could be so bold, I am interested in what book you two were reading that caused our friend so much anguish," Irving stated. Zevran watched on, his smirk morphing into a genuine smile, as Garnet retrieved the book from the floor where it had fallen in the commotion. The First Enchanter hummed knowingly, stroking his beard. "Ah, the Tome of Physical Technique. I suppose this could be a racy read, if one tried hard enough."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Surely, I'm not the only one that was mildly surprised that Cullen went from bumbling/nervous/ kind of sweet, to practically crazy/wanting to kill all mages AND be allowed to stay in the Tower. That's sort of what this chapter stemmed from.  
>Eadric is the elf mage who states "You're in my light" when you are exploring the Tower during 'A Mage of the Circle'. Since the Tome of P.T. only grants attributes to warriors &amp; rogues, I thought it would be a good book to use for some terrible innuendo.<strong>


	15. Betime Poetry

**Bedtime Poetry** (Amell PoV)

The return trip to Redcliffe was taking longer than she would have liked, and with the mare they had ridden to the Tower now being used as a pack horse, it was endless hours of trudging through the dusty mountain roads. As dusk had approached, they had made camp in a small clearing, and Garnet had dutifully given the sole tent to First Enchanter Irving. After all, it wasn't like she was unaccustomed to sleeping under the stars on a bedroll, unlike her fellow mages. She had the week after fleeing Ostagar to thank for that. However, the altercation with Cullen had left her shaken, and the Templars who had accompanied the mages were making her nervous, something she hadn't felt before in their presences. So she was thankful when Zevran had positioned his bedroll adjoining hers, regardless of the disapproving looks everyone but Irving gave them.

As she lay on her side, starring at the dancing flames of the campfire over Cadoc's back, Garnet couldn't help but smile as she heard Zevran settle down behind her, his bronzed arm slipping around her waist. The sound of tutting and scandalised whispering filled the campsite for a few moments, but she didn't care. _'Let them think what they like!'_ Nothing had happened between them, except one brief but enjoyable kiss, and nothing would happen. Well, not until there was some guaranteed privacy at any rate.

"I have a question for you," Zevran stated in a low murmur, near her ear. His gorgeous accent threatening to send a shiver down her spine.

"Oh?" Garnet shuffled until she could feel the warmth of his chest against her back.

"How well versed are you in poetry? Antivan poetry specifically," he asked, a smile evident in his voice.

"I know a good poem when I hear it," Garnet replied hedging her bets. The assassin's playful tone usually heralded trouble.

His breath tickled her ear as he chuckled, earning them a scowl from the nearby Templar who was on guard duty. "Then you won't be hearing it now. It was recited to me, as I recall, by a rather wealthy target of mine," Zevran explained, pulling her closer to him, almost like he was trying to prevent an escape attempt.

"I'm not about to run off," she teased, entwining her fingers with his hand that rested on her stomach.

"You have not heard this poem," he warned, playfully. "Let me see, hmm… The symphony I see in thee, it whispers songs to me. Songs of hot breath upon my neck, songs of soft sighs by my head. Songs of nails upon my back, songs of thee come to my bed."

Her whole body shook with the effort not to burst out laughing. "Oh Maker!" she gasped, her eyes beginning to water. "Sex poetry? _Bad _sex poetry."

"Oh I know, I know," he agreed, his mouth pressed against her shoulder, evidently trying to control his own laughter. "I couldn't believe she actually thought this would convince me to spare her. I had sex with her anyway, but that goes without saying. She still had to die. The poem was amusing at the time however, and thus I've always remembered it."

Garnet couldn't help but roll her eyes. It didn't surprise her one bit he had slept with his target first. "So, you thought you'd try to seduce me with second-hand bad poetry?" she teased, glancing back at him.

"Mmm, now that is a thought, isn't it," he whispered, leaning over her. His amber eyes darkening slightly. "Would it work?"

"If you lost the poetry part, it might," Garnet grinned, turning her head so there lips were almost touching.

"I'll have to bare that in mind." For a moment, it seemed Zevran was about to move to kiss her again, until there was a disgruntled cough from the Templar, causing them both to bite back laughter. "Personally, my preferred methods of seduction are a bit more… tactile." He punctuated his sentence by running the hand that had been resting on her stomach, down her side. "Here, I just thought you might be cheered up by some naughty poetry. You simply look so, unhappy. Such an unflattering expression for such a lovely face."

Despite his jovial, flirty tone, Garnet had caught the brief flash of what seemed like genuine concern in his amber eyes. "You think I'm lovely, do you?" she deflected, moving to lay on her back so she could look at her companion without straining her neck.

"Who wouldn't? You're the type of woman who stokes the lust in men, and other women alike. Surely you know this, and are playing with me," Zevran chuckled, leaning on an elbow, his other arm draped loosely across her abdomen. "Me, I tend to make the best of whatever situation I find myself in. Stealing what moments I can." Even with the teasing note to his voice, there was a tender look in his eyes. One Garnet was sure he didn't even realise he was letting slip through his mask. "It's served me well most days, you might learn to do the same."

Looking up into his handsome face, Garnet couldn't deny she found Zevran _very_ attractive. And despite him having tried to kill her, she enjoyed his company, perhaps more than she should. Though, despite these two factors, it was the rare cracks in his teasing bravado that really caught her attention. On impulse, Garnet reach for his face, her fingertips lightly tracing the sweeping tattoo on his left cheek. "That would all depend if I had someone worth indulging in," she smiled in reply, trying to keep the tone light. There was already too much heaviness in both their lives.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**That infamous poem had to make an appearance somewhere, and after poor Amell's experience in the previous chapter, this seemed like as good a time as any.**


	16. A Friendly Proposition

**A Friendly Proposition** (Zevran PoV)

Silently, he slipped into the ornate room that had been designated as the warden's, and concealed himself in one of the many shadows cast by the dim light. Garnet's plan to save to Arl's son had been successful, though it had placed her in considerable risk, risk that Zevran did not think she should be making. Yet she had returned from the Fade triumphant, and yet the Arl remained deathly ill. He had seen the defeated sag to the warden's shoulders, and the fading of the mischievous light that usually danced in her eyes. Despite this, Zevran had heard the warden agree to seek out Andraste's Ashes, a mere myth as far he was concerned, and he suspected Garnet felt the same.

She had remained almost silent throughout the evening meal the group had shared with Bann Teagan and some of the guards, something so out of character even Morrigan had been throwing the warden concerned glances. When Garnet had announced she was retiring early, far earlier than Zevran had ever witnessed her do, his idea had formed. At one time, the thought of bedding the attractive redhead was merely from a point of enjoyment, and possibly conquest. However, he had grown to actually enjoy her company, perhaps even care for her, and he wanted to do something that would ease her burden. Even if only for a night. It was uncomfortable for Zevran to admit to himself, he wasn't actually sure what a friend should do in this sort of situation, though he did know where his talents lay.

This was how he found himself in her room, silently watching as she entered, dressed in a simple russet tunic instead of her familiar Archon robes. Her red hair still shining damply from recently bathing. _'And what a glorious sight that must be'_ he thought, watching as she walked towards the roaring fire. Her hips swinging with their customary appealing sway. Zevran would have been content to observe her for a moment longer, radiant as she was haloed in the warm glow from the hearth. Until she gave a weary sigh.

Tutting to announce his presence, he was impressed when Garnet didn't even flinch, just simply glanced over her shoulder at him. "You look so tired my dear," Zevran soothed, moving towards her. "It's all this constant walking, and fighting. I think I know what you need…" He dropped his voice lower in pitch, standing so close he knew she would feel the heat from his body, even though they were not quite touching.

"Oh? This I have to hear," she quipped, as she turned to face him. The spark returning to her lovely green eyes, despite her evident tiredness.

Zevran could not explain why he was so delighted that the warden hadn't taken a step back, merely looking up at him, almost through her lashes. He was so tempted to run a hand down her cheek, to whisper a fantasy or two in her ear that would make her melt into his arms. But no, this was not meant as a meaningless seduction, Zevran wanted her to want this… to want him. He merely wanted to state that it was an option available to her, even though he knew she deserved better than him. After all, it wasn't like the stuck up Templar, or the Bann, could give her the service Zevran had in mind.

"My thought is this, we retire to bed, and I show you the sort of massage skills one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse," he suggested, though why he added the self-depreciation, he wasn't sure. Perhaps his mouth was trying to remind him that he really wasn't worth her attention, no matter how much he enjoyed or wanted it.

"A massage?" Garnet smirked in reply, her tone indicating she didn't exactly believe him. He knew her to be perceptive, but the offer wasn't actually a euphemism, merely an extra. Quickly, he produced a few small vials from the hidden compartment of his belt, the amber liquid shimmering in the warm light. There is a flash of emotion in her eyes, and for a moment he wondered if she was disappointed, but it was quickly gone as she chuckled. "Sure, that sounds… _really_ good actually."

"A willing victim it is," he teased, feeling oddly nervous at voicing the next part, despite that flash of emotion he saw. Pushing away the useless and unwanted feeling, Zevran offered her his hand. As she took it, he walked backwards, slowly leading her to the large four-poster bed. "And if I might ask, if the opportunity to proceed past the massage should present itself?" he flirted, his teasing mask up to hide the hope he actually felt. There was no denying, he had bedded many women, and men, before… but Garnet Amell was different.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something," she replied, her voice taking on a husky tone that shot straight to his groin. "Besides," Garnet smiled, closing the distance between them and laying a hand across his chest, over his heart. "It's not like I could resist you," she whisper in his ear, her breath sending an unexpected shiver down his spine. "My handsome, Antivan assassin." She punctuated the sentence by seductively licking up the tapered curve of his sensitive ear.

It took a considerable amount of self-control, more than Zevran cared to admit, not to outright moan at her careful attention. However, it was her words… well, one in particular, that had thrown him off balance, yet he chuckled to hide his surprise before pulling her roughly into his embrace. 'Hers!' Why that sent an unusual ache to his chest, Zevran wasn't sure. What he was certain of though, was that he had definitely gotten more than he expected with the beautiful mage.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**If you hadn't guessed it, this is the start of the 'romance' scene between the pair. I wanted to add in Zevran's feelings, because of what he mentions later in the game…  
>Sorry, not sorry, for the tease of halting the scene where it is. Let it be a warning that the next chapter will be rated M, and from Amell's PoV.<strong>


	17. The Promise

**The Promise** (Amell PoV)

Though she would never have admitted it to him, to save his pride if nothing else, Garnet had noticed how Zevran's breath had caught when she called him 'hers'. It had taken more willpower than she would have liked to control the smirk that had wanted to form. For all his teasing and bravado, who would have thought that simple word would be what tripped up the assassin? Certainly not her.

Now Garnet lay face down on the sumptuous, red brocade eiderdown, naked as the day she was born, with the lean yet well-muscled Antivan straddling her hips. She let out a soft, contented moan as his nimble fingers smoothed out another knot in her shoulder muscles that she hadn't realised was causing her discomfort until that moment. The rich, floral fragrancy of the warm oil teased her sense of smell. Heavy Rose with an alluring undernote, one that Zevran had called Ylang-Ylang.

She sighed again as his surprisingly soft hands glided to her other shoulder, their movement help by the oil, and Garnet let her mind drift back to slightly earlier in the evening. Standing next to the ornately carved, mahogany bed, they had undressed each other slowly. The act of removing an item of clothing was punctuated by a soft caress, or whispered endearment, even the occasional light, teasing kiss but never anything heavy or frenzied. It had almost been romantic, something that had never entered her fantasies about the elf, and there had certainly been plenty. Garnet had always imagined that if she were ever to sleep with Zevran it would have been all fire and passion, never something as soft and gentle as what had taken place so far.

"Te ves preciosa, mi querida," Zevran whispered in her ear, bringing her back to the present.

Smiling, Garnet pushed herself up on her forearms and glanced over her shoulder and the handsome elf. "One day you're going to have to teach me Antivan," she told him.

"Si, Cariño," he grinned, his eyes unceremoniously falling to the curve of her breasts that the shift in position had revealed.

Garnet had felt the obvious sign of Zevran's arousal lightly pressed against her lower back throughout the massage, yet it was the look in his amber eyes that made her fully aware of his desires. She had told him earlier that she would be sure to think of _something_, should the 'opportunity to proceed past the massage' presented itself, and Garnet was sure this was the perfect moment to do so. Even though she was hardly a virgin, since it was surprising how much mischief you could get up to without the Templars or Senior Mages realising, Garnet would never have considered herself a bold person. However, she found herself rolling onto her back, Zevran's act of leading forward to whisper in her ear granting her the room to manoeuvre. Slowly, she ran her hands down the toned expanse of his chest and abdomen. Her eyes followed, drawn to the sweeping tattoo along his left side, whilst her mind marked the difference of her porcelain pale skin against his bronzed hue. Snaking a hand around the back of his neck, enjoying the light tickle his blonde hair caused across the back of her hand, Garnet pulled him closer.

Gazing up at him from beneath her lashes, she felt her heart begin to race and her lips tingled in anticipation. All their previous kisses had been quick, flirty affairs, and she had completely different plans for this one. Being this close to him, Garnet noticed the spattering of dark flecks in Zevran's vivid amber eyes. Distantly, the sound of a guard's rhythmic patrol of the corridors reached her ears, though it did nothing to distract her from the elf holding himself mere inches above her. The exotic smell of him, a scent reminiscent of Sandalwood and faint notes of leather, mingled with the heady perfume of the massage oil that still lingered on her skin. The scant space between their bodies seemed electrified to her. As Zevran closed the remaining distance, his warm skin pressed flush against hers, a pleasant and tantalising weight. The firm length of him teasing her own arousal, as his full lips finally met hers. Feeling his tongue ghost along her lips, Garnet opened her mouth instinctively, and her own tongue starting a languid dance with his. The faint minty taste of him assaulted her senses. As their kiss deepened, a sigh escaped her, just as she felt Zevran groan against her mouth. The sound so unbelievably erotic she found her body responding to him on it's own volition.

Unsurprisingly, Garnet felt him chuckle against her lips, even as he pressed his hips into hers, mimicking her movements from moments before. "It seems you are eager, my dear Grey Warden."

Unfazed by his teasing, she cheekily ran her tongue across the curve of his bottom lip in a brazen lick. "Like you're complaining," she quipped, almost daring him to refute her claim.

"Not at all, mi tentadora," Zevran agreed, giving her collar bone a playful nip. "And as delightful as our present… position is, I must ask, are you sure you want this?" he asked, staring intently into her eyes.

'_I should be scared of him'_ a vague, far of part of her brain reminded her, but as Garnet looked up at him, taking in his dishevelled blonde locks that had escaped his customary braids and hung loosely around his face, she couldn't help smile at the assassin. During their heated kiss, their bodies had shifted in position, and the elf now lay between her legs. Grinning at him wickedly, something Garnet was sure he'd appreciate, she hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. "Answer your question?" she asked, almost mockingly, enjoying how the tip of him pressed, teasingly, against her wetness. His answering groan sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

"Impatient," he scolded in a stained pant against the crook her neck, before giving her another well-place nip. "You will get your way, _this time_, mi querida. Though I _will _have you begging later."

'_Is that a threat or promise?'_ Garnet didn't have long to ponder, because in one swift, slightly unexpected stroke, Zevran hilted himself inside her. She couldn't help but gasp, surprise and pleasure both colouring the sound as her back arched off the bed involuntarily. Opening her eyes that she hadn't realised she'd closed, Garnet looked up at her lover, for there was really no other word for him, not at this moment. He wore a wholly too-self-satisfied smirk. "Ass," she chuckled, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him into a bruising kiss as she adjusted to the delicious stretch he caused.

"Like you're complaining?" he mimicked, when they finally parted for air.

Any retort Garnet was planning to make died with a fluid roll of his hips. The slide of him, the heated friction, it felt better than she could imagine. It was much better than any of the trysts she had experienced in the tower, and far better than she was even going to admit. _'He's got a big enough ego!'_ Garnet gave him a rueful smile, before, once again, deftly running her tongue along the tapered curve of his left ear. To her delight, it caused his steady rhythm to stutter, if only for a moment. It was oddly satisfying to know she affected him so, especially with the copious amount of lovers she knew he had.

Giving him a wink, Garnet rolled her hips, setting a new, faster rhythm. One Zevran matched easily, though there was no surprise. Then, without warning, he shifted her right leg to rest over his shoulder. The deeper angle caused her to moan, perhaps a little louder than she cared to admit. _'Blasted elf'_ she thought wryly, his knowing smirk not bothering her one iota. Determined not to let him get the upper hand for long, she channelled a small ice spell to the fingertips of her left hand, lightly trailing them down his side. She was rewarded by another stutter in his pace, and childishly, Garnet claimed that as a victory.

"Cheat," he muttered into her hair, though a smile was evident in his voice.

When this had become a game, she wasn't sure, though she certainly couldn't remember a time when sex had been so fun or relax. There was something uniquely special about the Antivan assassin, that Garnet was sure. How else could she explain why an act that was so intimate in nature seemed so companionable? The fact they could joke and tease each other throughout was a little surprising, slightly endearing, and very enticing. Not that she was inclined to let Zevran know any of this, not any time soon at least.

"I thought you were a master lover, Zev," she goaded, cupping his face and starring boldly into his eyes as she matched him move for move. "You're going to have to do better than this, if you hope to impress me." The fact that it took a lot of effort on Garnet's part not to sound out of breath was merely a side note.

For a fleeting moment, Garnet could have sworn she saw his eyes widen, but the look was soon replaced by amusement that danced in their amber depths. "Oh I intend to," Zevran chuckled before moving his lips close to her right ear, his warm breath eliciting a delightful shiver from her. "This is merely a warm up, Cariño, I promise."

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note:<span>**

**So, I thought I'd give you all a glimpse into the thought process of this chapter. To start with, I debated between writing something hot & heavy or something with a little more 'feeling' (like my Thane/FemShep sex scenes). However, neither felt right regarding these two. Anything emotional felt too early in their story, anything too steamy felt overly worked. Finally I figured, knowing Zevran's character, and the relationship I think he'd have with an easy-going/accepting Amell, their first time could easily end up like this. So… there you have it! Also, the idea of the tattoo comes from Zevran's comments to Leliana when in Orzammar, and I have in mind it would look similar to his facial tattoo.**

**For those of you who are unsure/don't know, an eiderdown is a type of quilt, traditionally filled with eider duck down.**  
><strong>Both Rose and Ylang-Ylang are known to me sensualromantic fragrances which is why I imagined the oil to smell like them. Sandalwood is another sensual fragrance, but usually considered a masculine scent, thus why I think Zevran would smell of it!**  
><strong>"Te ves preciosa, mi querida" roughly translates to "you look ravishing, my dear", "Si,<strong> **Cariño" means "Yes, honey/hunny", and "mi tentadora" translates to "my temptress". Yes I'm using Spanish for Antivan as it seems the most similar/plausible language. **


	18. Rude Awakening

**Rude Awakening** (Zevran PoV)

Loud, steady knocking dragged him from sleep. An Antivan curse forming on his tongue before his brain registered the warmth pressed against the length of his body. Opening one eye, and finding the grey light of dawn had barely begun to filter into the room, his gaze quickly fell to the tousled red hair of his companion. The knocking turned into heavy pounding, and Garnet groaned, evidently only just returning from the Fade. The small, disgruntled sound caused an unexpected warmth to bloom in his chest, the type he hadn't felt before. Zevran had little time to consider these feelings as the sound of a solid weight thumping the door adding to the insentient pounding.

"Alright, alright," Garnet called, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I'm awake. Give me a moment."

Briefly, Zevran wondered if it was wrong to stay the night. Granted 'night' was a strong word, their _activities_ lasting well into the early hours of the morning, but still… he had grown up knowing he had to take his pleasure whenever he could, knew they were merely fleeting moments, knew to leave when the deed was done. Yet he _had_ stayed, and the strange heaviness in his chest would not abate. Unexpectedly, Garnet leant up and brushed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. It was almost affectionate in nature, and Zevran wondered if he was simply fooling himself with the notion.

"Morning lover," she smiled, gently stroking his tattooed cheek before pushing herself out of his arms, and slipping out of bed.

He tried to ignore how his heart pounded at her pleasant greeting, the tenderness in her tone. The only other person to be happy to see him the morning after was… no! Zevran pushed the thoughts aside and busied himself with propping his head up to watch Garnet's naked beauty as she sauntered towards the heavy oak door. He watched as she slipped on a deep blue, silk robe that hung from a nearby hook, then opened the door. The moment she did, Garnet was knocked aside as an eager mabari bounded into the room. The hound immediately jumped up onto an armchair near the hearth, rather the charging for the bed. Something Zevran was certainly thankful for. His mouth quirked into a smirk as he noticed Cadoc's eagerness had managed to slightly shift Garnet's robe, revealing a tantalising amount of cleavage.

"Oh… um… er…" a male voice stuttered, the owner hidden behind the door. Though Zevran had an inclining of who it would be.

"Alistair? You're looking awfully red. Are you feeling unwell? Do you need me to make up a potion for you?" Garnet asked, sounding more cheerful than the ungodly hour should really permit. Valiantly, Zevran bit back a chuckle. He could well image the shade that the Templar had turned, and had a feeling the silken robe revealing some of Garnet's ample assets had everything to do with it.

"No, no. It's nothing like that. Um… really it could have waited, I suppose, but erm…" Alistair bumbled, only halting the wave of speech when Garnet tried to stifle a yawn. "Oh. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to wake you. Are you ok? Did you not sleep well? Was it nightmares again?"

The gentleness in the Templar's voice struck a chord with him. It was evident Alistair was genuinely worried about his fellow Grey Warden. It twisted the heaviness in Zevran's chest, once again making him wondered if he was wrong to fall asleep with Garnet in his arms. It had felt right, that he couldn't deny, but he knew he had overstayed his welcome. He wasn't her lover, not in the deeper meaning of the word, and certainly not her partner. Sighing quietly, as to not alert Alistair to his presence, Zevran screwed his eyes shut.

'_Idiota!'_ he cursed himself. He knew his place, as much as he hated to admit it. He was merely a tool, something to be used. He had come to her last night for the sole purpose of Garnet using his body to relieve her tension, granted she hadn't asked, but the facts were still the same. With that in mind, Zevran realised how selfish it was for him to stay. Garnet had a lot to lose, should her dalliance with an elf, a former Crow no-less, ever be known. Whereas he had nothing, _was_ nothing, nothing but a pathetic son of a whore.

A soft hand cupping his face halted his self-belittling. "What on earth is going on in that head of yours?" she asked kindly, curling her body against his, her head resting on his shoulder.

He wouldn't admit it, but he breathed in her scent. The fragrance of the massage oils still clung to her skin, as did the scent of their passion. "Nothing of importance, Cariño," he lied. "Though I do wonder what Alistair wanted, I admit I may have dozed off while you talked." It was another lie, but it was better than burdening her with his thoughts.

"Oh, he just wants to set off on the hunt for the ashes as early as possible, whilst not actually realising how early it still is," she chuckled. "I mean, the sun isn't even fully up for Maker's sake!"

Despite his common sense, Zevran snaked his arms around her petite frame and pulled her silk wrapped body closer to his bare skin. "And who are you taking on this quest?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, also against his better judgement.

"Alistair, obviously. He'd probably go searching for it on his own if I didn't, and Leliana would never forgive me if I didn't bring her. Purely on the off chance the ashes _are_ real, which I honestly doubt," Garnet explained, idly tracing the sweeping tattoo that snaked along his side.

Her gentle ministrations had Zevran forcing himself not to shiver in pleasure. Her touch was more enjoyable than it had any right to be. "Cadoc will be your fourth member, no?" he asked nonchalantly, determined to hide his disappointment.

"Actually, I was hoping you would be willing. Maker knows there's only such holy reverence I can take before I feel the need to set something alight! You'd be keeping me sane. Though if you'd prefer to stay here…"

"How could I say no to such a beautiful woman as yourself," he interrupted. Zevran had known since pledging himself to her, that he would follow Garnet anywhere. However the unfamiliar weight in his chest left him with other questions, ones he needed to know the answers to, lest he became distracted with thoughts above his station. "And with that decided, as the priestess so famously said to the handsome actor, what now?" he asked in his usually jokey manner, building back the wall against the inevitable rejection. Since, realistically, a one-night-stand was more than his kind was worth to a woman like the warden.

"Priestess? Actor? Huh?" Garnet questioned, pushing herself up to look at him. "Actually, never mind," she smiled, shaking her head. "What now, that I understood, and I was about to ask you the same."

Smirking, he brushed aside a few errant strands of hair from her face. This was merely to stall for time, so he didn't accidently blurt out what he actually wanted to say. Admitting he'd mostly likely make a deal with demon to spend another night with her, was hardly a good idea, especially to a mage. "Allow me to make it simple my lovely Grey Warden," he said instead. "What comes next, is _entirely_ up to you."

"Zev," Garnet chided, her green eyes narrowing slightly.

"Cariño, I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found, for they do not come very often. I shall ask nothing more of you, than you are willing to give," Zevran explained solemnly, running the pad of his thumb along the curve of her lower lip.

Emotion flashed in her eyes, too quick for him to discern, before a devilish smile graced her lips and her tongue darted out to lick his thumb. "And what if I'm willing to give more than you can handle?" she asked seductively.

He outright laughed at her actions. "You saucy minx. We have come very far from those early days from when I tried to kill you, and you decided not kill me," he joked. "Fate is such a tricky whore, isn't she?" He couldn't help stealing a sweet kiss before he released his hold on her. "At any rate, we should be on our way." Zevran reluctantly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, not liking how the chilled, early morning air assaulted his naked skin. "A new day awaits us, or so the rumour goes."

Zevran felt an unexpected kiss being pressed to the back of his shoulder, over the top of a prominent scar he had received thanks to one of the Crow's more _enthusiastic _masters. His breath hitched. As a rule, he didn't let his anyone, especially lovers, see his back. Marked as it was from his training. The scars were unattractive, prompted too many questions and too many memories. Why he had broken this with Garnet, Zevran didn't know, but thankfully she merely chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind and placing another kiss to his cheek.

"You know, one day, I'm going to sit down and write a book titled Zevranisms. It will be filled with all the profound Antivan sayings you like to share, only with added, detailed translation so no other poor Ferelden has to suffer like I do," she teased.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note:<span>**

**So, I thought I'd explore a different side to Zevran's personality with this chapter, mainly prompted from his line at the end of the game stating that: "From the first night you asked me into your tent, I have been nothing but confused".  
>The idea from the scars came from Zevran's dream while trapped in the fade. If the rack was part of his training, I'm sure there would be a lot of other, unsavoury aspects to it. One's that would leave marks.<strong>


	19. Dragon Tails

**Dragon Tails** (Amell PoV)

"This is a Maker damned joke," she muttered angrily, shrugging of her woollen cape and unslinging her bow.

This journey had been one disturbing, blood drenched folly after the other. First the unsettling alter in one of the homes in the village, the boy carrying a human finger bone in his pocket like a good luck charm, and the insane priest who had spouted rambling nonsense and tried to kill them had only been the start of it. Then there were the crazed villagers, acting more like rabid beasts than sentient creatures when they also attacked, followed by a pack of deranged cultists trying to kill them. Now, to ice the proverbial cake that Haven had turned out to be, a high dragon was _also_ trying to kill them.

"Cariño, may I suggest somewhere slightly less lethal for our next date?" Zevran quipped, throwing off his cape in a flourish and slipping past her with his sword and dagger raised.

"You trying to tell me you don't find imminent death romantic?" she teased back, smiling darkly as an arrow lodged itself in the dragon's thick neck.

With a roar loud enough to start an avalanche, the purple beast spun, it's heavy tail slashing in a wide arch. Zevran and Leliana practically danced out of harm's way. Though in sickening slow motion, Garnet watched as the swipe caught Alistair full in the chest, hurling the Templar across the small clearing they fought in. The sound of crunching bones as her fellow warden made contact with a partially intact wall of the nearby ruin reached her ears, though it was muffled beneath her scream of his name.

A hand quickly squeezed her shoulder. "Go. I will cover you," Leliana proclaimed, her customary daggers already being exchanged for the bow she had taken from Marjolaine weeks prior.

With a grateful nod, Garnet set off across the clearing as if a horde of darkspawn were on her heels, thankful that Duncan had convinced her to abandon the long robes of the Circle all those months ago. She repressed the urge to squeal in shock as she crashed to her knees, cold snow creeping up and over the top of her long boots, as she sank to her thighs in the blood flecked drift. Ripping off her gloves, she reached for the broken figure of her friend. Alistair's body lying in such a crumpled heap it was a wonder he was still breathing. Her hands glowed with a pale green light as she released the first of her healing spells, quickly turning blue as she cast Regeneration.

"Oh thank the Maker," Garnet huffed when the Templar finally let out a groan, though an Antivan curse quickly ended her relief. Turning back towards the fight, she saw Zevran leaping up on to a window ledge of the ruin, away from the snapping jaws of the dragon. Anger flashed through her as she unleashed a hastily cast Crushing Prison, and it wasn't until she was conjuring a Fireball, that her mind finally caught up with her actions.

After a quick check to make sure that Alistair was regaining consciousness, Garnet rushed back to the open space of the clearing, retrieving her discarded bow as she went, and only halting her run when she was back at Leliana's side. With practiced eased, the two women barraged the dragon with synchronised arrows until both their quivers were depleted. Zevran making well timed hacks and slashes with his poisoned blades whenever an opening was presented.

Just as Leliana was about to replace bow with blades, Garnet grabbed her wrist starring in awed shock as Zevran leapt once more up onto the ruin's window ledge, only to bound off again, grabbing one of the dragon's pink tinged horns and sinking his sword into the beast's skull. With an agonised roar, it shook it's head trying to dislodge the assassin, who merely sunk a dagger into the dragon's bloodshot left eye. For a heart stopping moment, Garnet thought the elf would be trapped under the beast as it thrashed it's death throws. Yet, Zevran merely barrel-rolled out of harm's way as the dragon's body finally crashed to the ground, a plume of dry snow being thrown up in a cloud as it did.

Without thinking, Garnet threw her arms around the elf's neck the second he came close enough to reach. For a moment he seemed surprised, if the rigidness of his stance was anything to go by, but then his arms wrapped around her waist. Pulling her into a tight embrace. "Las cosas hago para usted," Zevran murmured into her hair, though Garnet had little time to ponder what that could mean.

"It seems I missed all the fun," Alistair stated, sounding a little groggy.

Looking up from where her head was buried in the assassin's neck, Garnet watched as the Templar nudged the dragon with the toe of his boot. His back was to them and presumably he was oblivious to the embrace she was sharing with the elf. "I'm glad you're alright," she whispered to Zevran, gently slipping out of his hold.

It wasn't that she was ashamed of what the two of them shared, though she had no idea _what_ exactly it could be called, considering they had only slept together once, several days ago. Not that Garnet wouldn't enjoy a repeat of that night, but the two of them sharing a tent with Alistair and Leliana for warmth made that impossible until they were back in Redcliffe. Which was another week away at least. As she walked past, the redheaded rouge gave her a knowing look, one that Garnet returned with a beaming smile. No. Definitely not ashamed. She was merely too bone weary to try and find a delicate way of explaining the situation should Alistair notice and start asking questions.

Upon reaching the Templar, who was still examining the dragon corpse, Garnet gently wrapped her arms around his waist from the side. "Don't do that again. You're the only brother I've got, I like you alive."

Chuckling, Alistair wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Thankfully, careful not to dig the edge of his metal gauntlet into her spine as he so often managed to do. "No getting injured from dragon attacks. Got it." He kissed the top of her head in the absentminded way he usually did. "I can't believe a high dragon swooped down on us. I always knew swooping was bad."

"Of course you did," she laughed, pulling away from him. "And whilst you were napping the rest of us did the hard work. Though Zevran got the killing blow, it was pretty amazing." Garnet turned to grin at the elf, only to find him staring at her. All trace of his usual cheek and cheerfulness gone. If she hadn't known better, Garnet would have sworn he was scowling.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note:<span>**

**So this chapter is based directly on my playthrough where the high dragon 'killed' Alistair and Zevran killed the dragon! With added ruminations about what Amell would be thinking and how I think our favourite elf might act following the last chapter.  
>'Las cosas hago para usted' translates to 'the things I do for you' for those who are wondering. <strong>


	20. Uncomfortable Truths

**Uncomfortable Truths** (Zevran PoV)

There was a time he would have laughed, watching someone talk to… well, 'spirit' was the only word Zevran could think to describe the guardian. However, he was still in turmoil over witnessing Garnet and Alistair together. He already knew the two wardens were close, but something about how they were after the defeat of the dragon riled him. What aggravated him further, was that he didn't know why. The remaining trek up the treacherous mountain hadn't helped his darkening mood, nor had the snowstorm that had closed in around them. Now, they stood in the drafty, cobweb covered entrance hall of the shrine whilst Garnet had a conversation with a spirit like it was the most normal thing in the world. She was a mage though, so perhaps it was an ordinary occurrence for her. Yet Zevran doubted that. He was so lost in his inner monologue, that he had missed most of the warden's conversation with the guardian. It was only the tensing of her shoulders, which he caught out the corner of his eye, that brought his attention fully back to the scene in front of him.

"Yes," Garnet was almost whispering. "I thought telling Irving was the right thing to do, that he could help Jowan. I was wrong, I betrayed him." She brushed the back of her hand across her cheek, and it was only then that Zevran realised she was crying.

"Thank you. That is all I wished to know," the guardian replied.

"You are too hard on yourself. No one is perfect," Alistair soothed, much to Zevran's chagrin.

"You could not have known what would happen," Leliana stated, taking Garnet's hand. "You did what you thought was best."

Zevran wanted to comfort the warden, to take her into his arms and hold her, let her cry and unburden herself. Though in present company, he did not feel he could do that, nor did he think she would appreciate seeming so vulnerable in front of the others. So instead, he settled for sarcasm. "And now the self-flagellation? For that is what comes next in these things, no?" The words came out more bitter than he had intended, earning him scowls from both Alistair and Leliana.

It also seemed to earn him the ire of the guardian as well, for the spirit suddenly rounded on him. "And the Antivan elf. Many have died at your hand, but is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of…"

His eyes widened in shock as he released where the enquiry was going, before they narrowed in anger. "How do you know about that?" he demanded.

"I know much," came the cryptic reply. "It is allowed to me. The question stands, however. Do you regret…"

"Yes!" Zevran grit out through clenched teeth, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. His eyes flashed to Garnet on their own volition, and he found her regarding him with a look of concern and confusion. "The answer is yes," he stated again, with only slightly less venom, casting his eyes to the floor. "If that is what you wish to know. I do. Now move on."

Swallowing hard, Zevran dared not raise his gaze from the section of broken flag stone his eyes hand settled on, lest he met Garnet's again. Silently, he fought to keep his breathing even and his hands from shaking, refusing to show how unsettled her felt. _'Show no weakness' _he repeated the mantra over and over in his mind. He couldn't fathom how the spirit had known about that fateful night, what had transpired and what he had done. His days and nights had been plagued by guilt and memories since it had happened, something than only began to wan once he met the beautiful warden.

Shaking his head, Zevran bit back an angry sigh. The guardian's questioning had re-opened the barely healing wounds on his soul, had re-established his self-loathing, and reminded him how unworthy he was of Garnet's attention. '_Me cago en la madre que te parió_!_' _he glowered silently at the spirit. His mind was in such turmoil that he barely caught the guardian speaking with the other two. Something regarding Leliana and the Chantry as well as Alistair and Duncan, the latter only vaguely sinking in because of the mention of the man Garnet also held dear. He hadn't realised that the guardian had faded from sight, or that the others hand moved through the now unbarred doorway, until he felt a gentle hand wrap around his right bicep.

"I don't know what that was about, and I won't pry. Just know you can talk to me if you need to," Garnet said, giving him a small smile.

"Cariño, no merezco tu bondad," he replied, shutting his eye to ward off a flood of emotion as her other hand cupped his cheek, the warmth of her touch melting some of his pain.

Zevran felt her squeeze his arm, before she sighed. It was a tired, sad sound. "Whatever it is, I'm here for you Zev."

To his surprise, he felt her lips gently caress his cheek. The soft floral scent of her, the heat of her body, momentarily chasing away the bleakness he felt. All too soon the sensation was lost, and he opened his eyes to watch her walk towards Alistair and Leliana who stood in the near distance, evidently trying to light torches to illuminate the dark corridors that lay ahead. As Garnet neared the threshold, she stopped and turned to face him. Another small smile formed on her lips as she held out her hand to him. His feet moved on their own accorded, and Zevran soon found himself reaching out to grasp her hand. Swallowing past the lump threatening to form in his throat, he was infinitely glad that Garnet did not mention how his hand trembled as his fingers laced with hers.

"It will be ok," was all she said, before pulling him to join the others.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note:<span>**

'**Me cago en la madre que te parió!' translates to 'I shit on the mother who gave birth to you'_. _Sorry, I wanted a curse that was so vulgar, it would really portray Zevran's anger._  
>'<em>Cariño, no merezco tu bondad' roughly translates to 'Honey, I don't deserve your kindness'.**


	21. Baptism of Fire

**Baptism of Fire** (Amell PoV)

**Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight.**

Sceptically, she glanced from the altar, to the flames, and back again. For good measure, she also re-read the carved text. Unfortunately, it still read the same. Unable to resist the urge to sigh, Garnet pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off the impending headache. After all the stupid trails that hampered their way through the shrine…

"The Maker is a damned pervert," she muttered to Leliana, as she started to unsling her bow and quiver.

"What do you… oh," the rogue replied, peering over her shoulder to read. "I see…" Leliana deftly began to unbuckle the belt that held her daggers in place around her hips, evidently reaching the same conclusion.

"Alistair, Zev? Lel and I are going to be baring all in the name of Andraste, so could you be gentlemen and turn your backs for a while?" Garnet asked flippantly, untying the knotted ribbon that held her corseted bodice together.

"What…" Whatever Alistair was going to say trailed off as he flushed an interesting crimson, undoubtedly only just realising the two women were undressing.

"What a terrible time to need to be a gentleman," Zevran chuckled, his eyes roving unabashed over Garnet's barely clothed figure as she shrugged out of her robe. "But for such lovely ladies, we will endeavour to keep any nosy guardians at bay. Won't we, my fine fellow?" The last sentence was directed to Alistair, as Zevran clapped the taller man on the shoulder, ushering him towards the chamber door.

Catching herself smiling fondly at the elf's retreating back, Garnet shook her head, and divested herself of her final article of clothing. She gave Leliana a nervous smile before regarding the flames with trepidation. This had to be one of the most idiotic things she had ever done.

"Worried?" her fellow redhead asked in a quiet voice, coming to stand beside her.

"Terrified," she whispered in reply. Clasping the rogue's right hand with her left, Garnet was slightly mollified when her hand was squeezed tighter. "One… Two… Three."

Without letting the other go, the two women began to walk through the wall of fire. Surprisingly, the flames brushed their skin with no more than a slight tingle of warmth. Though caution still made them go slowly, lest some previously unseen trap awaited them. Their fingers remained intertwined as they started to ascend a flight of stone stairs that had been hidden by the towering flames. When they reached the apex, Leliana gasped and Garnet's head snapped away from the sight of a beautifully carved marble statue with a golden urn nestled at it's base, towards her friend. The rogue's sapphire blue eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

"I never believed I would lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes," Leliana whispered reverently. "I… I… I… have no words to express…"

Garnet raised their still clasped hands, and kissed the back of the rogue's. "Take a moment," she smiled, before releasing her hold and moving towards the urn. Carefully, she removed the ornate lid. _'I hope this provides the miracle we need'_ she thought as she regarded the grey ashes. Gently she took a pinch, cupping the powder in both her hands, hoping no particle would escape her grasp before she managed to secure the remains in the velvet pouch that lay with her discarded robe.

As they turned to make their way back across the chamber, it became evident that the flames with beginning to recede, making their path clearer. However, it wasn't until Garnet was lightly brushing the palms of her hands together, over the velvet pouch that Leliana held open, that she finally let out a relieved sigh.

"You were successful, no?" Zevran called over his shoulder, never once turning his head, much to Garnet's surprise.

"Let's just hope it was worth it," she replied, hurriedly redressing. Her actions were halted when she felt, more than witnessed, the ethereal fire sputter out.

"Allow me," Zevran's rich voice rumbled near her ear, as he took the ribbons of her corset from Garnet's unresisting hands.

"Thank you," she muttered distractedly once he had finished securing the bodice. Bizarrely, being helped to dress was one of the most sensuous activities she had ever encountered. The thought was entirely backward to her, and the fact it happened with two of her friends in the room only added to the unusualness of it. That was before she took into account the guardian that suddenly emerged into the chamber. Absentmindedly, she gave Zevran a chaste kiss, completely missing his look of shock as she turned her attention to the spirit.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note:<span>**

**Not strictly an Amell/Zevran chapter, but stemming from ideas that wouldn't leave my head after this quest. Mainly, how odd the final 'test' was, and did all four of them really need to strip to get the ashes. I also wanted the 'trial' to be a little more impressive, because the flames in game looked like you could just jump over them, after everything else in the shrine, I thought it would end a little more fire & brimstone! **


	22. Pillow Talk

**Pillow Talk** (Zevran PoV)

The return trip from Haven had been thankfully uneventful. The ashes, surprisingly living up to their fabled legend. The Arl, still sleeping. Though his sleep was now from a concoction of herbs that the warden and Wynne had prepared to help stave off any lingering sickness, rather than the Fade induced coma. Despite the uncomfortable encounter with Andraste's guardian, and the unspoken questions that seemed to reside in Garnet's eyes whenever she looked at him now, even Zevran had to concede their fool's errand had been successful. More so now that said warden back in _his_ arms, tracing idle patterns on _his_ chest, both of them naked and sated after their shared passion in _his_ bed no less. Not the blighted Templar's. Not that Zevran was bothered by Garnet and Alistair's closeness, not one bit.

"Tell me about your adventures," the warden asked suddenly as she nuzzled his neck, planting sporadic kisses as she pleased.

"My adventures? I'm hardly an old man just returned from across the ocean am I?" he chuckled. "Should I shake my fist at nearby children whilst I talk about the good old days?"

"Zev!" she chided, playfully nipping at his jaw. "You certainly talk like you've had adventures."

"Falling down a flight of stairs is an adventure. Falling into someone's bed, also an adventure," Zevran teased, pulling her closer to emphasis his point. He had never been one to indulge in affection after the act, but this sort of intimacy came natural with the warden. Something Zevran would worry about, if he didn't currently feel so content.

Garnet thumped his chest lightly. "Humour this poor, sheltered circle mage." She looked up at him, her eyes almost doe-like, and batted her long eyelashes. A pretty, faux pout on her full lips, that were still swollen from their heated kisses.

Since it was no secret that he loved recounting his stories to her, he sighed theatrically hoping to earn a giggle, which he quickly received. "I suppose what you are after are professional antidotes?"

"You know I can't resist tales of the great Zevran's exploits?" she grinned, settling herself to lean on his chest, her gaze never leaving his.

Running a hand absentmindedly through Garnet's tousled hair, he hummed in contemplation, trying to decide which mission to divulge before a smirk languidly formed on his lips. "My second mission ever for the Crows was a bit intriguing. I was sent to kill a mage, who had been meddling in politics."

Watching as her smooth brow furrowed in confusion, Zevran's smirk morphed into a genuine smile. "The Crows are willing to anger the Circle of Magi?" Garnet asked, sounding surprised.

"Mages, royals, rulers, Grey Wardens… In Antiva, no one is too important to escape the reach of the Crows. They've killed kings and queens, among others, that is simply how it is," he explained, lightly tracing her jade tattoo. "As it turned out, the mage in question was quite a delightful young woman. Long divine legs, as I recall, though not as ravishing as you Cariño," he added. Though he had never witnessed an inkling of jealousy from the redhead, Zevran supposed it best to err on the side of caution, especially considering the beautiful woman in his arms could kill him with the snap of her slender fingers.

"Nice save," Garnet teased, leaning up to plant a quick kiss on his lips. "So what happened with your leggy mage?"

"I caught her in a carriage on her way to escape to the provinces. After I killed her guard, she got down on her hands and knees and begged for her life. Rather aptly, I might added." The admission caused the warden to raise an eyebrow, a smirk on her lips, silently saying she could well imagine how the other woman had 'begged'. "So I joined her in the carriage for the night and left the next morning," Zevran continued.

Garnet tilted her head, her brow furrowing again, and for an awful moment he wondered if he had been too candid. Despite the warden excepting his past sexual history, and his profession, Zevran began to worry that it was folly to be so forthcoming with his history. Part of him admonished himself. What did it matter what she thought? This was nothing serious after all, just two people attracted to each other easing tension. The rest of him pointed out that was a complete lie. Against everything he had been brought up to know, Zevran considered her a friend, someone he… _cared_ about. Whether or not their physical relationship had any real meaning to it, he wasn't ready to consider. Though he could admit, at least to himself, that he cared what Garnet thought of him. A fact that was terrifying. Without warning, his heart began to beat faster in his chest, unable to read the look she was giving him.

"And she _didn't_ try to kill you?" the warden asked incredulously.

Whatever he had expected her to be thinking, Zevran hadn't really anticipated that and he couldn't help but chuckle, from relief as much as amusement. "Well, yes. Twice actually," he admitted, grinning ruefully. "And then she decided to use me instead. The woman had actually convinced me speak to the Crows on her behalf." Garnet rolled her eyes in response then bit her lower lip, in an obvious attempt not to laugh. "What can I say?" Zevran shrugged in good humour. "I was young and foolish at the time. Then, as I was kissing her goodbye to return to Antiva City, she slipped on the threshold and fell backwards out of the carriage, broke her neck. Shame really, but at least it happened quickly."

Garnet shook her head in apparent disbelief. "So you didn't _actually_ kill her?"

"Not _actually_, no. I was a bit unimpressed by the development at first, then I found out she told the drive to take her to Genellen instead. She had planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows," he told her. _'Among other things'_ his brain added. "As it was, my master was very impressed that I done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play, and everyone was happier all around."

"Except for the mage," Garnet countered, though her smirk belied her words. "Do these sort of things happen to you often?"

"Like being spared by a benevolent and beautiful mark, who then helps me escape from the Crows?" Zevran quipped, capturing her lips for a teasing kiss. "Yes, it does seem to happen now and then doesn't it? It was after that, that I learned that one needn't let a pretty face go to your head. Professionalism is key. That's my moral for the day, you see."

"So you_ never_ mix business with pleasure?" the warden asked, her voice taking on a sultry purr.

Zevran couldn't resist, and quickly rolled Garnet on her back, pausing to rest his weight just above her. "Mmm, well there is you," he smirked as her fingernails began to lightly run down the expanse of his back. "But I must point out that you did have to capture me and tie me up first. Every rule has it's exception." And he was damned to admit just how many exceptions he was willing to make for the beautiful redhead that lay beneath him. It was troubling to realise that he would break most, if not all, of his own rules to stay by Garnet's side. "Now that I've mentioned tying me up in the context, do we have extra rope about," Zevran joked, trying to hide the discomfort that particular realisation had caused.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note<strong>

**First up, Happy New Year to you all.  
>Secondly, Genellen is the actual city Zevran names in game. Though the wiki only states it's a settlement in Antiva.<br>I'm not sure why, but I always thought this seemed like the type of conversation the pair would have, lying in bed after a heavy 'session', so here it is I suppose.**


	23. Sealed

**Sealed** (Amell PoV)

Her quill made one final scratch against the parchment before she set it down next to the inkwell. With a sigh, Garnet rested her chin on an upturned palm, regarding the short letter she had just written, waiting for the ink to dry before she sealed it for delivery. The events that had happened back in the Tower's library still bothered her, a great deal more than she let on. What no-one knew was that she had always cared for Cullen, and it wasn't until meeting Zevran that her desires had begun to change. The fact the Templar had moved to attack her, tore at Garnet's heart. She had known Cullen almost as long as she had known Jowan. Where she had let her fellow mage down, she was determined not to let the same happen with the Templar. So, she had decided to write to him.

**Ser Cullen,  
>Foremost, know this letter is sent in mind of the tentative friendship we once shared. You have endured more than one soul ever should, especially one as kind as yours. Please know that, to some extent, I can understand what you went through.<br>To be held against your will, tormented and fighting to remain vigilant, to know that the fate of you and your friends is held by those you cannot hope to challenge… That is the life of every circle mage regarding the Templars and the Fade. I do not say this to anger you, merely for you to understand. You yourself have witnessed what a bad Templar can and will do. We both spent many an unfortunate night trying to heal the damage of an attack on an innocent apprentice. You with your quiet assurances and me with my spells.  
>On this, you must see reason. Just as Templars are not all wicked and power hungry, delighting on forcing themselves on mages who cannot protect themselves for fear of death or worse. Not all mages are evil and twisted like Uldred and his followers.<br>Please know, had I been there sooner, I would have done everything in my power to safeguard you against what you have so wrongly suffered. We were friends once, or as close as a mage and a Templar are allowed to be. With that that in mind, know that you are not as alone as you must surely feel. If you let me, I will help how I can.  
>Andraste watch over you.<br>- Garnet Amell**

Nodding in subdued satisfaction at her wording, she rolled the parchment neatly and affixed the seal. Pressing the Guerrin insignia that Teagan had kindly provided into the warm, red wax. Extinguishing the candle she had worked by, Garnet rose from the desk and made her way to the castle's main hall. It was their last night in Redcliffe, the Arl now recovered from his ordeal, and as such the corridors were a bustle of activity. The Arl's men readying for their march to Denerim, Garnet's companions making preparations for their journey to the Brecilian Forest in search of the Dalish.

She found Bann Teagan standing near the large fireplace that took up nearly the entire western wall of the hall. Smiling slightly, Garnet handed him the parchment along with his signet ring. "I thank you for the loan of you seal, my lord."

Unexpectedly, the younger Guerrin caught her hand and raised it so he could kiss her knuckles. "It was a pleasure, my lady. Rest assured I will have my best scout bare your message to it's mark." Teagan released her hand gently before retrieving a scroll from a nearby table. "This arrived for you a short while ago, though as you can see, there is no insignia, so I cannot tell you the source."

Smiling her thanks to the Bann, Garnet made to exit the hall, scroll in hand, when she almost collided with Zevran. The elf was clad in brown linen trousers and an unadorned white tunic that set off his bronze complexion quite handsomely. "Making a hasty retreat to read a love letter, no?" he teased, though his lazy smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"And here I thought your method of seduction was more tactile," Garnet retorted, calling on his words a few weeks prior.

Zevran took her arm, gentle escorting her back towards her room. "Perhaps it is from a secret admirer? A woman as lovely as yourself surely has a few."

"What do I need a secret admirer for?" she shrugged, pushing open the door that led to her quarters. Absentmindedly, she leant against the door, holding it open for him, already beginning to read the scroll. Garnet barely managed to get the gist of the missive, something about a meeting in Bann Loren's lands and that the sender was a man named Elric, before she registered the startled gasps from two passing chambermaids as the blonde elf stepped over the threshold. She only looked up from her skimmed reading when Zevran's left hand caressed her right hip.

"Why indeed?" he asked, his voice taking a huskier edge.

Angry mutterings and the sound of disapproving tutting caused Garnet to turn her head towards the corridor. Not far from her door, a fair sized group of servants had gathered. Mostly human, though some were elven. She noted there were a mixture of looks on their faces. Annoyance or anger from the former, surprise or intrigue from the latter. Rolling her eyes, Garnet pushed off the door, closing the distance between her and Zevran.

"Hope you don't mind a bit of gossip," she whispered, tugging at the collar of his tunic with her left hand, the missive crumbling in her grasp as she did. Unabashed, she pressed her lips to his, just she gave the heavy door a shove with her other hand. It closed with a loud bang, no doubt leaving their unexpected audience gaping at her audacity.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Just an idea that has been in my head for a while. I really like Cullen, and I want him & Amell to have some sort of reconciliation. I also image that some Templar's would abuse their powers, as Ander's hints at in Awakening. My own headcannon is that was how Cullen and Amell grew to know each other, both trying to help make the Tower a safer place to be.  
>The other scroll that is mentioned is a nod towards the Return to Ostagar DLC. I also thought it would be fun for the Grey Warden to cause a little bit of a scandal, perhaps giving Wynne a more legitimate reason for being such a cow… I'm sure you all know what conversation I'm referring to!<strong>


	24. Return to Ostagar

**Return to Ostagar** (Zevran PoV)

Plans often had a way of being interrupted by fate, their plans especially it seemed. The two wardens had decided to diverge from the plan of traveling from Redcliffe to the Brecilian Forest, in order to follow the lead from the missive that Bann Teagan had given to Garnet. It was not the Zevran couldn't see the logic behind it, he could, but appreciating the reasons did little to warm him as he shivered. Ankle deep in snow was not how the Antivan liked to spend his days. The haunted look on Alistair's face and the sorrow the danced in Garnet's eyes was only adding to his discomfort.

It was unusual, but the whole group had travelled to Ostagar. The one time battlefield now blanketed in crisp snow that hid the legacy of war. Sporadic pockets of Darkspawn had remained, but the eight strong group had managed to dispatch them soon enough. They'd happened upon the chest that Elric had mentioned, and Zevran couldn't help how is eyes had widened at the sight of the king's blade. "That is a sexy sword," he had blurted out as he coveted the weapon, yet it had seemed only Leliana had heard, for the bard had hummed her agreement whilst the others either poured over documents or scouted the area.

Now, Zevran stood transfixed with the others, unable to tear his eyes from the ghastly sight. The corpse of the dead king, astonishingly preserved by the prevailing cold, was displayed like some sort of sacrificed messiah. Held aloft on some hastily built, grizzly construct.

"Who would do such a thing?" Leliana asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Darkspawn," Morrigan replied. Almost in answer to the witch's statement, the recognisable growl of a grenlock reached their ears followed by the distinct clanking of bones.

"Necromancer," Garnet grit out through her teeth and Zevran watched in slight surprise as the mage stepped in front of Alistair who still stood rigid, his harrowed gaze never leaving the king's body.

Just as Zevran was going enquire of her plan, Sten spoke out. "Go," the Qunari stated. "I will stay with the Templar."

"As will I," Wynne added.

Without even turning to look at her companions, Garnet gave a barely conceivable nod before setting off at a run, Cadoc keeping pace beside her. Without thinking, Zevran quickly followed the mage, hardly registering that Leliana and Morrigan were close behind. The quintet raced after the darkspawn necromancer, following the grenlock across the deserted ruins and through long abandoned tunnels, tirelessly fighting undead and corrupted spiders along the way, until emerging out onto desolate, snow covered battlefield. A bellowing roar echoed across the expanse, and Zevran watched as emotions quickly flickered across Garnet's face. Shock, fear and apprehension before she finally settled on rage, as her eyes seemed to settle on two blades that were embedded in the Ogre's chest.

"Die!" she all but growled, directing the mostly powerful firestorm Zevran had ever seen at the beast.

Standing aside and guarding the flank was all he, Leliana and Cadoc could do as the warden unleashed spell after spell. Morrigan stepping up beside her fellow mage and released her own power into the fray. When the last enemy had fallen, including the necromancer, Zevran watched in amazement as the witch squeezed the warden's shoulder in an extremely rare show of emotion, before Garnet staggered towards the Ogre's corpse. The redhead all but collapsed into the snow at it's side. His chest tightened as he noticed how her hands shook when they reached for one of the blades, and before he could register what he was doing, Zevran had crossed the distance and was knelt beside her.

"Cariño?" he whispered, hoping not to startle her from the unnerving reverie she seemed to be in.

"These were Duncan's," Garnet replied, her voice hoarse as she evidently choked back a sob.

Quickly understanding, he captured her trembling hands and raised them to his lips, kissing each in turn. "Allow me," he offered, though didn't wait for a reply as he swiftly freed the blades from where they were embedded in the Ogre's chest.

Handing the still blood stained weapons to Garnet, he watched silently as she lay the longsword across her lap and unexpectedly cradled the dagger to her chest. "Rest in peace, my friend," she whispered, a single tear escaping from her tightly shut eyes.

"Amell, the wolves most likely got the body. We should return to the others," Morrigan stated, though her tone was not as clipped as it usually was.

Though the reasoning was most likely accurate, Zevran could not help but feel that the witch was being callous, however Garnet remained stoic. Nodding her assent, the warden slowly stood, still gripping the blades tightly. Realising that she was not going to release the weapons without good reason, Zevran hurriedly unbuckled one of the spare belts he wore over his brigandine and fastened it loosely around the mage's hips as a makeshift sword belt, ignoring the knowing look Leliana gave him. Silently, he helped Garnet secure the blades and was rewarded with a sad smile.

"Thank you," she said, briefly touching her hand to his chest before turning to follow the two other women back through the tunnels.

Having cleared the route already, the return journey progressed quickly and soon the five of them were back on the bridge, greeted by the sight of Sten gently lowering the king's frozen body to the floor. "Alistair, are you alright?" Wynne was asking and Zevran had to bite back the urge to scoff. A blind man could clearly see the Templar was not doing well, the dazed and horrified look on his face was visible enough.

Evidently hearing their approaching footsteps, Alistair turned to them. Zevran's stomach gave an unexpected lurch upon seeing the desperate look the Templar gave Garnet. "We need to do something," the man practically pleaded.

"Of course," she soothed, obviously compartmentalising her own grief much to Zevran's chagrin. "We'll do right by him, I promise."

His chest constricted when the warden lay a gentle hand on the Templar's cheek before she went to speak quietly to Sten, who nodded and strode away in the direction of the small copse of woods they had passed. Tearing his eyes away, hoping to hide his scowl, his gaze landed on the deceased king. Quickly, his eyes flitted back to Alistair before resting once again on the corpse. Realisation dawned.

Respectfully, he approached the Templar who stood with his back to him and lay a hand on the man's shoulder. "You're brother, no?" he asked, careful to keep his voice quiet so as not to alert the others to his words.

"How did you…" Alistair began before his shoulders sagged. "Yes. Half-brother, anyway."

Nodding solemnly, Zevran regarded the other man. "You have my condolences, my friend. If you have need, I am at your disposal." And for once, he was completely serious with his intent.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note<strong>

**So, anyone else notice Cailan's body is almost in a crucifix? A little disturbing in my opinion… and I thought it bared mentioning!  
>A Brigandine iswas a medieval piece of armour, made of canvas or leather and lined with small oblong steel plates riveted to the fabric. It seems to fit Zevran's armour the closest, so that is why I am using it.  
>I could never understand why the developers thought Zevran would disapprove of <strong>_**not**_** leaving Cailan's body as it was, so this is my own remedy to it really. **


	25. Mistaken Affection

**Mistaken Affection** (Amell PoV)

Taking a page from Morrigan's book, Garnet sat a distance away from the campfire and the others. It had been a mere six hours since they had lit the funeral pyre for King Cailan, three hours since they had made camp and barely a single hour had passed since she had given Alistair Duncan's sword. A sad smile pulled at her lips and her ribs twinged in phantom pain from the memory of the crushing hug the Templar had given her. Red steel armour and physical affection certainly did not mix. With a sigh, Garnet regarded the dagger that sat in her lap before her gaze lifted to the babbling brook she sat beside with a single werelight for company. Even though she had only known Duncan for a short time, the rogue had taken up residence in her heart. She missed his quick wit and hearty laugh.

A warm hand unexpectedly squeezed her shoulder, and turning her head, Garnet found herself looking up at Alistair's smiling face. "Here, look at this," he said, sitting next to her on the improvised log seat. "Do you know what this is?"

Garnet's mouth quirked into a smirk as the Templar gently lay a pressed rose onto her lap next to Duncan's dagger. Gently, she caressed the dried red petals and was surprised they had retained most of their velvety texture, instead of becoming brittle. "Is this a trick question?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, absolutely. I'm trying to trick you. Is it working?" he smiled.

She bit her lower lip in an attempt to hold back a chuckle. "I can just imagine how frightened the darkspawn will be with your new weapon."

Alistair outright laughed. "Exactly," he agreed, gesticulating wildly. "Watch as I thrash our enemies with the might power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will over power you with my rosy scent."

Tears streamed down Garnet's face as she joined in his laughter, and it wasn't until her head fell against his shoulder that she realised Alistair wasn't in his armour, opting for brown canvas trousers and a white cotton shirt instead. If she wasn't struggling so much to breath, Garnet might have considered him rather dashing. Instead she wheezed against his shoulder. "Oh Maker!"

"Or, you know, it could just be a rose," he shrugged, jostling Garnet's head before he slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I know that's pretty dull in comparison."

"It's beautiful," Garnet argued, smiling. "Though sentiment can be a pretty potent weapon." She never could help teasing the Templar.

"Is it that easy to see right through me?" Alistair asked, leaning his cheek atop her head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you are the smartest person I know. I picked it back in Lothering. I remember thinking: 'How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?' I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since."

Nestling herself against his side, Garnet regarded the rose again, idly wondering if Leliana had helped him preserve the rose, as it was in such beautiful condition still. She couldn't help but smile, who would have thought an ex-Templar would be such a romantic. "That's an adorable sentiment."

"I thought that I might… give it to you," he told her quietly, tightening his arm around her. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

Her first instinct was to make a joke_. 'Feeling a little __**thorny**__ are we?'_ was the first thing that came to mind, causing Garnet to roll her eyes at herself. _'I'm picking up some of Zev's habits'_ she realised, her smile widening. "Thank you Alistair, that's a lovely thought," she told him, knowing how earnest her friend was being.

There was a brush of lips against the top of her head. "I'm glad you like it. I was just thinking… here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death, fighting and tragedy."

"Not all tragedy," she interrupted, squeezing his hand. "I got you and the others out of all this. I couldn't ask for better friends."

Alistair gave a hearty chuckle. "You are too kind. I know the rose isn't much, nothing compared to you finding my mother's locket or Duncan's sword, but… I just wanted to let you know how appreciated you are. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness. I couldn't do this without you."

A sob threatened to escape her, she was so touched by his sweetness. "Of course you could, just not as stylishly," she quipped, fighting back the unexpected tears. "So, are we married now?"

"You won't land me that easily, woman," Alistair laughed. "I know I'm quite the prize after all. No need to start crying on me or anything." How he always knew when she emotional, Garnet couldn't say, but she smiled at him ruefully as he tilted her head to face him and wiped the few escaped tears away. "Now, if we could move on from this awkward stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."

Laughing outright, Garnet lightly punched his chest. "All right hot stuff, sounds good. Off with this," she goaded, tugging on the collar of his shirt. Garnet knew this was all just banter, she'd seen the way the Templar looked at Leliana after all. Not to mention she was enamoured with Zevran.

The Templar held up his hands in defeat. "Bluff called," he admitted, moving to stand and offering Garnet his hand. "Damn, you saw right through me."

"You're so cute when you're bashful." Garnet punctuated the statement with a pat on the cheek for good measure, earning her a playful scowl. "But at least you're not blushing this time."

"Thank the Maker," he agreed as they walked back towards the camp and it's inviting fire.

Glancing around, Garnet was disappoint that Zevran was nowhere to be seen. "He said he was going to wash up. I suspect he will be back shortly," Leliana stated, giving her a knowing look.

Figuring there was little point trying to deny she was looking for the elf, Garnet smiled at her fellow redhead. "Thanks, Lel." With that, she retired to her tent pointedly ignoring the disapproving glance Wynne gave her.

Deciding she would deal with the older mage, and anything else fate decided to throw at her, after a good long sleep, Garnet began to settle down for the night. However, she barely had time to set down the rose and dagger beside her pack before there was a slight rustle followed by the smell of sandalwood and leather filling the enclosed space. "Zevran," she greeted, pulling the elf into a welcoming kiss.

"What must the others think?" he chuckled, though it sounded a little forced.

"Is everything ok?" Garnet asked as she pulled away from him slightly, her brow furrowing when he refused to meet her eyes. "Speak to me Zev," she implored, tugging him to sit next to her.

Several heartbeats passed as Zevran simply gazed at the scattering of werelights that illuminated the tent, their ethereal light cast a green glow to his bronze skin. "You and Alistair are close, are you not?" he enquired, his gaze shifting from the lights to the rose. "I am curious to the… nature of your relationship."

For a moment, Garnet wondered if she had heard him right. _'Is he jealous?' _she mused, before shaking her head in disbelief. _'Don't be stupid, this is Zev!'_ Though looking at his face, taking in the tightness of his jaw and the heated look he was giving the poor rose, told a different story. "It isn't what you think," she told him gently, wondering how warped his view of affection and companionship really was.

"Isn't it?" he replied harshly, before letting out a suspiciously sad sounding sigh. "I've watched you and he together. I know a complication when it rears it's head and threatens to bite. You and I have had our fun, but if this thing between you and Alistair is leading somewhere…"

"Zev," Garnet interrupted, cupping his face in her hands, though he stubbornly refused to look at her. "My love," she added, and his eyes snapped to hers. He looked surprised at the term of endearment. "It is not what you think," she repeated. "He's my friend, a very dear one, but my friend none the less."

"Events say otherwise," he argued sounding tired as he motioned towards the rose. "I will happily step aside. Complication avoided. Everyone's the happier, yes?"

A weary sigh escaped her lips as her hands dropped to her lap_. 'He really doesn't get it'_ she thought. "Is that what you want?" Garnet asked, dreading the answer. Despite her better judgement, she cared about the assassin, much more than a just friend.

"What I want?" Zevran sounded genuinely confused. "If only it was so simple." There was a sadness to his amber eyes that constricted Garnet's chest, she couldn't remember seeing him this way, so vulnerable and earnest. "I make no claims upon you," he continued. "Nor would I dream of such. You are free to pursue your fancies as you desire. I would have it no other way."

Her heart ached for him. Garnet couldn't believe this was her Zev speaking. _'How can he value himself so little?'_ she wondered before nausea hit her. _'Does he think **I** value him so little?'_ Gently caressing his tattooed cheek, Garnet tried a different tactic. "I don't want you to step aside."

Zevran gave a small chuckle. "And I have no burning need to do so, but…"

Fighting the urge to groan in frustration, Garnet kissed him, fiercely. All but straddling his lap in the process. "Listen to me, you infuriating elf," she said looking Zevran straight in the eye. "There is nothing between me and Alistair. Yes we are close, yes I adore him, but as a friend. Nothing more. He is more a brother to me than anything else. It's you I want and if that's not enough to convince you, maybe watch the way he looks at Leliana tomorrow when we break camp." By the end, her chest was heaving from the effort to keep her voice low so the others would not over hear.

For a moment, Zevran merely regarded her before he bowed his head, almost sheepishly. "I am many things, a murderer, a thief, a lover… but I am no cheat. I just… if whatever is between us can't be honest…"

"It _is_ honest," Garnet interjected, smiling kindly, though it hurt a little that Zevran seemed to think she was simply using him. Though with the life he had lived, she supposed it wasn't that surprising. "There is nothing between me and Alistair, or anyone else for that matter. I want you, no question."

"And I am glad to hear it," Zevran replied, looking genuinely relieved. "Now, then. Shall we move on to more pleasant topics?" he asked, and Garnet could see his familiar mask slipping back into place, though for once, she would let him hide.

"How about poetry?" she quipped, smiling cheekily before kissing him deeply.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**This chapter stems from some ideas I've had since first playing the game, as I got the 'Jealous Zevran' dialogue even though I hadn't been trying to romance Alistair!  
>Also my headcanon demands the rose was presseddried. How else could it have lasted since Alistair can't do magic & it's _very_ unlikely Morrigan would have helped him in anyway. And internet cookies for those who can spot the quote! ;-)  
><strong>


	26. About a Boy

**About a Boy** (Zevran's PoV)

They had spent the past seven days walking from the ruins of Ostagar towards the Brecilian Forest, the chilled wind harrying their progress every step of the way. However, it was a relief to see winter had not yet encroached so far into Thedas, with the last vestibules of autumn clinging resolutely to the tightly packed trees. The wan sun was setting, casting it's pallid light around the smaller the usual campsite, the thicket of trees granting them little room.

As such, the group's tents were tightly packed together, and Zevran knew there was little chance he would be able to sneak into the warden's tent tonight. Part of him scoffed at the thought, Garnet had made it more than clear that she wasn't embarrassed if people knew about them, she had made that perfectly clear during their last night in Redcliffe. Also, the pair had cleared the air regarding her and Alistair, though Zevran still found his fists clenching every time the Templar touched the mage. Which led him to what the rest of him felt, utter confusion. He couldn't understand why seeing the pair together agitated him, why he was so bothered about not spending the night with her, or why his heart had beat so uncontrollably fast when she had told him that she wanted _him_, no one else.

Unable to contain the ragged sigh that escaped him as he stared into the embers of the campfire, Zevran earned himself another caustic look from Wynne, something he'd been getting a lot since Redcliffe. He was so weary, he couldn't even muster the effort to throw a witty remark at the older mage, and instead ran a hand down his face as he tried to collect his thoughts. Absentmindedly, he heard footsteps approaching, but it wasn't until someone appeared in his peripheral did Zevran turn to acknowledge them.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he drank in the sight of the warden clad in only an oversized, white shirt. _His _shirt to be more precise, which barely reached the middle of her porcelain thighs. He watched as she lay out her robes near the fire, evidently setting them out to dry after washing. Zevran could practically feel Wynne's disapproving stare as his smirk turned into a wide grin when Garnet turned to face him. "My, my. My dear Grey Warden. You are certainly a delectable sight," he flirted unabashed, his eyes perusing her body.

Returning his smile, Garnet rolled her eyes before joining him on the pelt he sat upon. The same pelt she had given him during his first night at camp. To Zevran's amusement, the warden leant her back against his side, stretching her lean legs out in front of her. Chuckling, he shifted his position until they were sitting back to back, her miniscule weight against him was oddly comforting. "What's your opinion on the Dalish?" Garnet asked, sounding tired.

Her question caught him slightly off guard. He hadn't really given the Dalish any thought, well… not in many years at least. He took a moment to think before answering. "I know little enough of the Dalish, other than my mother was one… or so I am told." Despite his best effort, he couldn't keep the melancholy out of his voice. Though surprisingly, Zevran didn't feel any real need to hide it from her. "She had fallen in love with an elven woodcutter and accompanied him back to the city, leaving her clan behind for good. And then, of course, the woodcutter died of some filthy disease and my mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts. Oldest tale in the book." Silence followed, and apprehension began to gnaw at him. He always found himself opening up to the warden, admitting things he had never told another soul, and it always left him feeling vulnerable.

"She must have been very beautiful, to have a son as stunning as you," Garnet replied quietly, and he smiled at her compliment. "Was the woodcutter your father?" Her question sounded hesitant, almost as if she was scared to offend.

Zevran scoffed at the notion. "How should I know?" he replied. "My mother was a whore, as you recall. None of the other elven boys in the whorehouse knew their fathers, I was not so unusual. I didn't know my mother either of course, she died giving birth to me. My first victim as it were…" he lapsed into silence then, lost to the old guilt and bitter thoughts. Unexpectedly, Garnet moved, sending him suddenly tumbling backwards. Bracing himself for the hard smack of solid earth to the back of his head, Zevran was surprised to find himself blinking up at the warden, his head cradled on her lap. A witty remark was on the tip of his tongue, until he caught the look on her beautiful face.

"Don't even think that!" Garnet scolded in a harsh whisper, caressing his cheek gently.

Quickly shutting his eyes, lest she notice his tumbling emotions, Zevran took a subtle deep breath before allowing himself to relax. "We were all raised communally," he explained, figuring he'd gone so far, he may as well tell her the rest. "It was a happy enough existence, ignoring the occasional beating. Until eventually I was sold to the Crows. I brought a good price, so I here." His eyes remained shut, even when he felt her hand still on cheek.

After a heartbeat, Garnet began stroking his hair and Zevran was unable to withhold the hum of appreciation. "I'm so sorry, love," she whispered, evident emotion making her sweet voice thick.

Chancing opening his eyes, Zevran smiled up at the warden. "Ah, compassion and beauty both in the same woman. It is a delight, truly." The look she was giving him was so breathtakingly honest and so full of care, his heart stuttered and he had to look away again. "Though, what you say is unnecessary, even if it is appreciated."

"Oh Zev." Garnet's words where more a forlorn sigh than anything else, and not for the first time Zevran wondered why this amazing woman gave him the time of day, at least away from bedroom activities.

"It could have been worse," he assured, convincing himself as much as her. "I shall not tell you about the other whorehouse boys, those who do not fetch a decent price with the Crows." Zevran paused, mulling over his next words. In all the time he had known the warden, he could think of only a handful of times Garnet had ever opened up. It seemed she spent her time consoling or bolstering others. "Surely your life as not been so idyllic either? People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment after all." For some inexplicable reason, Zevran found himself holding his breath as he waited for her reply. He wasn't sure why, but a small part of his brain believed that if she answered, it would mean she truly trusted him. Something that was more important than he'd like to admit.

Garnet gave a short, sad huff of laughter. "You can say that again." Smiling wryly, her nimble fingers continued ranking through his, now unbound, hair. "One day, when our surroundings don't have so many ears, I will tell you more about it…"

Sighing, he captured her left hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the pad of each of her fingers. _'It is something at least'_ he thought, accepting he wouldn't get any further explanation. "My original point is that my mother's Dalish nature was always a point of fascination for me. Through all the years of my Crow training, the one thing of my mother's that I possessed was a pair of gloves. They were of Dalish make, I knew that much, and beautiful. I had to keep them hidden, of course, as we were not allowed such things. Eventually, they were discovered and I never saw them again." He decided to leave out the punishment he had received, the beating had rendered him unconscious and the scars from the lashes still marred his back.

"Has there been no joy in your life at all?" Garnet asked, she almost sounded like she was holding back a sob. Looking up at her face, Zevran's heart clenched to see the tell-tale shimmer of tears in her verdant eyes.

'_Why does she care so much?'_ He was honestly confused with the amount of compassion the warden afforded him. He knew he didn't deserve it and the thought left him feeling exposed. "Oh, there have been plenty," Zevran chuckled to mask his discomfort. "To tell the truth, it is because I expected nothing more. Still, eventually even I thought it would be better for me if I ran off to join the famous Dalish when one of their clans drew near Antiva City. Naturally the reality did not live up at all to the fantasies I had constructed as a boy staring at those gloves." Once again, Zevran thought it prudent not to mention the outcome of his return to the Crows. What would his fearless Grey Warden think if she found out that he still had nightmares about his time spent in the guild's dungeons? Or that he was ever so _slightly_ scared of enclosed, dark spaces, even now?

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Once again, I wanted to explore/hint at what Zevran's past would have been like with the Crows because, thanks to the Fade dream, I cannot image it was pleasant. I also wanted to portray the changing/deepening relationship between him and Amell, though I'm only a little sorry using the cliché of her wearing his shirt!**


	27. A Dalish Welcome

**A Dalish Welcome** (Amell PoV)

They had risen with the sun. It's weak, early winter rays barely permeating so far into the forest, even despite the majority of the trees already shedding their withered leaves. Garnet stamped her feet to keep warm, her woollen cloak pulled tight around her whilst Cadoc whined and panted at her side. His hot breathe morphing into little clouds in the cold air. Eventually, the other's emerged from their tents and after a meagre breakfast of jerked meat and hastily thrown together flatbread, they continued their seemingly endless trudge through the Brecilian Forest.

Some weary hours later, their progress was halted by the emergence of three elves, Dalish hunters by the look of them. The party leader, a lithe framed, light-blonde female archer, addressed the group. "Stop right there outsiders. The Dalish are camped in this spot. I suggest you go elsewhere, and quickly."

'_Outsider, better than Shem at least'_ Garnet mused, ignoring the thinly veiled threat and remembering what her friend Surana had taught her about the Dalish back at the tower. _'Hope she wasn't lying to me_' she thought ruefully, her elven friend had enjoyed teasing her after all. "Atisha. We mean you no harm. We," Garnet gesticulated between herself and Alistair who stood to her right. "Are Grey Wardens, and seek the wisdom of your Keeper."

There was a snort of disbelief from one of the hunters. "I find that hard to believe," the archer stated, yet none of the three Dalish elves drew their weapons. "What business could we Dalish have with a group like yours?"

Garnet didn't miss the scowl that was directed towards Zevran and she fought the irrational urge to step protectively in front of him. Holding back a sigh, she recalled the very meagre advice Surana had given the last time she had seen the elf. "Abelas. Emma isada na Hahren," Garnet quoted her friend's phrase, hoping she wasn't butchering the pronunciation. "Our business must be discussed with your Keeper, and them alone."

To the archer's credit, she only looked mildly surprised a human was talking Elvish. Crossing her arms, the blonde nodded. "Seeing as you are obviously no simple trespasser, I will leave it to the Keeper to decide the importance of your business. In the camp, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself and remember that our arrows are still trained on you. Follow me."

"Ma nuvenin," Garnet smiled, inclining her head in a small nod of respect.

As they followed the three Dalish, both Zevran and Alistair approached Garnet, one on either side of her. "You didn't say you could speak Elvish," the Templar whispered reproachfully, where the assassin merely chuckled. "Cariño, you are full of surprises."

"Alistair, you didn't ask. Zev, if you know any more phrases that would be useful here, I'd greatly appreciate them," she replied in a hushed tone. In truth, Surana really hadn't taught Garnet much, learning individual words had been complicated enough, never mind actually sentences.

"Alas, mi querida, my mother may have been Dalish, but you know more of them than I do it seems," Zevran smiled, though there was an odd look in his Amber eyes. Amusement mixed with sorrow.

"Exactly _how_ do you know Elvish?" Alistair pressed.

"Along with Jowan and Petra, one of my closet friends in the tower was an elf called Neria Surana. No one knew of her life before she came to the circle, not even she, yet she remember snippets of Elvish and would research the language tirelessly. Since I was the only one that took an interest in her 'hobby', for lack of a better phrase, she taught me a little," Garnet shrugged, trying not to dwell on the fact that she hadn't seen Surana either time she had returned to Kinloch Hold.

"A useful friend to have," the blonde archer interrupted, the elf's keen hearing evidently picking up their quiet conversation, not that Garnet particularly minded.

"No. She was simply a wonderful friend," she corrected, smiling. "Elvish is a beautiful language, just damn hard for a shem like me learn. It's a wonder she didn't blast me with a fireball for the amount of times I pronounced something wrong."

There was an unexpected huff of laughter from another of the hunters. "You didn't do too badly, for a shem," he stated, actually sounding halfway impressed.

'_Well, that's a start'_ Garnet realised. Zevran evident thought the same, as he gave her a reassuring wink when her gaze briefly met his, as they continued to supervene the hunters. The walk was relatively short, seemingly following an old dear tack, though it was more likely that the animal was halla, given the Dalish presence. Throughout the journey, Garnet felt the tell-tale tingle that signalled eyes were watching them, and she supposed other hunters were hidden amongst the trees. They only stopped when a pretty, honey-blonde elf crossed their path. The woman was dressed in similar robes to Garnet, though hers were tinted yellow instead of grey and purple, and the staff she carried brought a smile to Garnet's face. _'It's good to see another mage, other than Wynne and Morrigan' _she mused.

"Andaran atish'an. Greetings, I am Lanaya, the Keeper's First, and I welcome you to this camp, our home," the elven mage stated.

"Ma serannas," Garnet replied, with a respectful nod earning her a surprised, yet pleased smile from the First.

"The Keeper is unable to meet with you at present, several injuries require his expertise and duties to the clan take president. There is room, close to the halla pen, where you could sent up your tents, as the Keeper promises he will meet with you at first light," Lanaya explained, clasping her hands in front of her.

"I am a healer, if you are need of assistance, as is my companion," she indicated to Wynne who stood patiently to one side.

"You are?" the First asked, eyeing her bow suspiciously.

Smiling, Garnet inhaled deeply before a silver-white aura surrounded her and the group, encompassing the Dalish hunters and Lanaya as well. Perhaps casting Mass Rejuvenation wasn't the most subtle method to showcase her talents, but it certainly got the point across. Taking her cue, Wynne raised her hand above her chest and drew a complicated shape in the air. The ground around them lit with a pale blue glow, as the Glyph of Warding was cast.

The three hunters looked mildly bewildered, yet Lanaya beamed. "Enasal! I'm sure Zathrian will welcome the help, I know I do." With that, the woman grabbed Garnet's hand and pulled her further into the camp, Wynne following quickly behind.

As trio began to wind their way through the clustered aravels, Garnet was sure she could hear Zevran's voice laughing. "The warden never fails to make friends, no?"

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note:<span>**

**First up, sorry this is not a strictly Zevran/Amell chapter, but it needed to be done to set up the next few, which unsurprisingly will be set in either the Dalish camp or the Brecilian Forest!  
>I'm sure everyone knows, but just in case someone doesn't, Neria Surana is the standard name given to the Elf Mage character origin. Since, regardless of the origin chosen, the other events still happen 'in the background', I figured Surana would be at Kinloch Hold whilst Amell was there. I invoke writer's licence to make them friends!<strong>

The Elvish language/words I use are taken from the DAwiki:

Atisha (ah-TEE-shah) means Peace.  
>Abelas (ah-BEY-lahs) means sorrowalso used as an apology  
>Emma (EM-mah) means I am<br>Isala (ee-SAH-lah) means in need of.  
>Na (nah) means your<br>Hahren (hah-REHN) mean Elder  
>Abelas. Emma isala na Hahren translates to (I'm) Sorry. I am in need of you Elder.<br>Ma nuvenin (Mah noo-VEY-nihn) means as you wish  
>Andaran atish'an (ahn-DAHR-ahn ah-TEESH-ahn) is a formal elven greeting<br>Ma serannas (Ma SEHR-ahn-ahs) means My thanks  
>Enasal (EHN-ah-sahl) means joyful relief<p> 


	28. Old Scars

**Old Scars** (Zevran PoV)

With a sigh, Zevran threw himself down on his bedroll, his clothes already discarded haphazardly near the entrance of his tent. He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong, but being amongst the Dalish was… uncomfortable. It brought back the childish imaginings he'd had of his mother as a child, it reminded him of the Dalish back in Antiva City, and it conjured the memories he'd tried to repress from the time the Crows had dragged him back from the Dalish clan he'd run to.

Turning onto his stomach, Zevran propped his forehead against folded arms, his gaze almost trying to burn holes into the flimsy fabric of his thin pillow as he tried to block out the memories. He gave an involuntary shudder, his gut churning as he remembered the sting of the whip lashing his skin. Screwing his eyes shut, Zevran tried to hold back his roiling emotions, though a tear escaped all the same, much to his disdain. In his mind's eye, he could well picture the dungeon he'd spent a month in, could easily recall the rancid smell of fear and death, could see the way the dim light bounced off the dagger's blade, could feel the coil of fear and dread as the master walked around his bound form and began dragging the biting steel down his back.

Zevran slammed his palm into the ground beside his bedroll. It sickened him, that even after all these years the memories still haunted him. He knew he still bared the scars on his back, why did he have to bare them in his head as well? He didn't even have Garnet's comforting presences, for she had yet to return from helping the clan, despite Wynne returning hours ago. He frowned at his errant thought, struggling to realise when he had come to rely on her company to ease the troubles of his mind. She didn't even need to say anything, just be there. It was a disconcerting thought. Worrying though it was, at least it was Garnet that occupied his mind, rather than memories of the Crows, as he drifted off into fitful sleep…

Jolting awake, Zevran's whole body tensed. Someone was in the tent with him, and they were close by. Training took over as his breathing remained steady, hopefully fooling the intruder that he was still asleep, even as his left hand slowly slid towards the small puñal dagger that was hidden beneath his pillow.

"Zev, are you awake?" a gentle voice whispered and he felt himself begin to relax. "I heard a… noise, and wanted to see if you were ok," Garnet explained as she knelt beside him.

A sardonic smile twitched his lips. 'Noise', that was a very kind way for the warden to tell him he'd been whimpering in his sleep, for that's what he knew she meant. Zevran easily recalled the nightmare, or more the memory, he'd been having. It was a small wonder that he hadn't been screaming and awoken the entire camp. He was about to roll over and tug her down to join him, until he felt the dreadful feeling of Garnet's soft, warm palm gently touch his back, directly between his shoulder blades. Zevran's blood froze. He'd been so careful to not let the warden see his back during their travels, even managing to stop her touching during their intimate moments… mostly by either holding her hands or simply pinning her wrists to the bed. There was only his one slip up in Redcliffe, where Garnet thankfully hadn't mentioned anything. She had probably still too tired to really register them then, but Zevran knew he wouldn't be so lucky this time. Dread had gripped him then, where he'd had a means of escape, but this was worse. Much worse.

It was a small mercy, as far as Zevran was concerned, that is was so dark inside his tent and that the warden had thankfully not conjured a werelight. That at least meant she wasn't able to see the myriad of silvery scars that littered his back from his countless whippings. However, she would easily be able to feel the ugly, raised scars from poison tinged daggers. Those had been inflicted with the sole purpose to remind him that he was worth nothing, was nothing. Nothing more than damaged goods, and now Garnet would know. She'd realise he was nothing more than an elven whoreson and be repulsed that she'd deigned to let him be her lover for as long as she had. Zevran knew he'd lose her friendship as well, because why the Maker would she want to be associated with such a broken, worthless being such as himself.

Swallowing past the lump that was forming in his throat was becoming difficult, especially when he heard Garnet give a faint, shocked gasp. Zevran wanted to lash out, to snap at her, demand if she was gaining some perverse enjoyment as her fingers lightly ghosted along the length of that scar. He was about to do just that, before he felt her lean forward, and place a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades, followed by another. It took Zevran a heartbeat to realise what she was doing, and it both sickened and amazed him. Garnet was kissing down the length of the scar, almost as if it was something to be honoured or adored.

Instinctively he tensed when her fingertips found another raised scar, one that snaked it's way from his tailbone towards his ribs on the right hand side. That one was given in punishment for turning down a master's advances when he'd barely turned sixteen. It wasn't the only punishment he'd received that day, but the only one the left a physical scar. As before, Garnet's soft lips followed her finger's path, and as much as Zevran wanted to push her away from him, to stop her affecting him so much and confusing him, he found he couldn't. Though it scared him to admit it, he found her ministrations… soothing, comforting even. For the life of him, he didn't know why.

"I always knew you were a strong man, Zevran Arainai," Garnet whispered, her warm breath caressing his cool skin. "I just never realised just how resilient you are. You're a marvel." To Zevran's surprise, the warden actually sounded impressed, though perhaps proud was a better description if he thought about it.

His brow furrowed in confusion. This wasn't how it should be. The scars were a reminder, a testament to his worthlessness, he'd been told time and again that they would let worthwhile people like the warden know how broken he was. Something to just use then discard. Zevran opened his mouth to demand her to explain what she meant, but to his disgust only a strangled sob emerged as Garnet found another scar, one that curved the length of the fifth rib on his left side. He'd earn that when he'd stopped a senior Crow forcing himself on a young, human girl who was being held captive as leverage against her magistrate father.

Somehow, Garnet managed to understand he was wanting an explanation. "These are not from fights," she stated resolutely as she kissed the third scar. It was certainly not a question, and Zevran simply knew she had guessed the likely cause. "I cannot imagine…" Her soft voice wavered, and he snapped back to reality. The warden wasn't doing this because she cared, she merely felt sorry for him.

"I do not want your pity," he practically growled, quickly sitting up and in the process pushing Garnet way from him.

"Is that what you think?!" she demanded in a hiss. She sounded hurt, surprised and offended. The air around them crackled with the warden's barely concealed power, and the tent was briefly illuminated by the glow of summoned fire.

In that moment, Zevran caught a glimpse of her face, and his anger was quickly extinguished. Even though the warden was regarding him with tear filled eyes, the only look he could see was one of affection and respect. His gaze dropped to the floor, ashamed by his accusation, yet words once again seemed to fail him.

"I know you do not want my pity, and what's more, you don't need it," Garnet stated, her tone was kinder though no less forceful. Gently, she cupped his face, forcing Zevran to look at her. "Why would someone as tenacious, capable and courageous as you, need pity? I won't lie, it _hurts_ to know someone harmed you, even if I didn't know you at the time. But I promise you, I will turn them into chargrilled Crows if they ever cross our path."

That caused him to chuckle, despite his surprise that she was so incensed by the knowledge. In truth, Garnet's reaction was throwing him more off kilter than the fact she'd discovered the scars in the first place. "Ah Cariño, the past is the past, no?" Zevran tried to dismiss, desperately trying to gather his customary bravado as a shield.

"No," the warden replied, quietly but firmly. "It's obvious they bother you, and one day you may tell me why, until then just know that I certainly don't think less of you for them. What I feel is far from pity, Zev. Though, in case you're struggling to understand…"

Without warning, Garnet's lips crashed into his. It wasn't like one of their usual kisses, one that would start off gentle and build into heated passion. This one was fiercely intense from the start, and forced Zevran onto his back where he pulled the red haired mage into his arms, not breaking their kiss, though she didn't linger long. Abruptly, the warden stood up, and just as he was about to question her, she began to hastily disrobe.

As quickly as she had departed, Garnet was back in his arms, pressing her lithe body against his. He couldn't help but groan in pleasure as her agile tongue licked up the tapered curve of his left ear, fully igniting his arousal. Since she was straddle across his thighs, Zevran gave her a teasing caress and was pleasantly surprised to find she was not only willing, but more than ready. His confident smirk was back in place as the tip of him nudge the velvet warmth of her, though he halted his movement, search her eyes in the darkness, looking for her consent. The minx surprised him though, by deftly sliding down his length, leaving them both moaning in unabashed enjoyment from the sensation.

An idle thought crossed Zevran's mind at that moment, vaguely realising that Wynne's tent was pitched close to his. However, conscious thought was soon eradicated as Garnet rocked her hips, forcing him to pant his appreciation of the action before quickly loosing himself to the ancient rhythm.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note<span>**

**So a bit of a hurt/comfort chapter for our dear Zevran, as I really want to explore his past and the other aspects of his personality, as well as some of my own headcannon! And let's face it, Zevran's going to appreciate/understand a sexual gesture much more than a sweet, romantic one.  
>For those who would like to know, a puñal (literally dagger in Spanish) is also known as a gunong and is used as a utility knife and as a thrusting weapon used for close quarter fighting, usually as a last defence.<strong>


	29. Tell it How it is

**Tell it How it is** (Amell PoV)

Sleep had not come easy for Garnet, nor had it lulled her for very long either, though for once she did not mind. She had rested well enough, her limbs entwined with Zevran's as he slept peacefully. She had spent the last half hour propped up on an elbow, stroking his soft locks whilst admiring his handsome face, a single werelight casting a dim light about the tent. In that time, as the dawn chorus began to stir, Garnet had come to the realisation she had started to fall for her Antivan assassin. Not that Garnet had any intention of telling him, suspecting he'd run a mile out of fear if she did. And that wasn't taking into account what had happened the night before, an event she was still trying to wrap her head around.

"See something you like?" Zevran suddenly asked, pulling Garnet from her thoughts. His voice thick with sleep, making his accent stronger than usual.

Garnet chuckled, he hadn't even opened his eyes yet. "More than," she whispered softly against his sensitive ear, before giving the lobe a gentle, playful nip. Even though she knew that time was of the essence if she were to meet Zathrian on time, Garnet kissed a trail down his neck, toned chest and defined abdomen. Feeling devilish, she gave a teasing lick to a very alert part of him, before quickly moving out of Zevran's reach.

"You are too cruel, my dear Grey Warden," he chastised as he sat up, though his tone was teasing.

As the chirping dawn chorus grew louder, she dressed quickly, knowing she'd have to sprint to get to the meeting promptly. Still, she spared time to give Zevran a chaste kiss. "And you are too tempting. Hopefully, I'll be back for breakfast." It was only after she noticed his smirk that Garnet realised how that sounded, especially to someone with a dirty mind, like Zevran. Instead of bothering to correct herself, she gave him a cheeky wink before slipping out of his tent, opting to leave her bow behind.

Without even having to whistle, Cadoc was at her side, and the two set off at a run. Though it turned out she needn't have bothered, for she arrived at the camp's fire pit long before anyone else had even stirred. A chill mist was swirling around the Dalish camp, and Garnet pulled her cloak around her trying to conserve heat. Kneeling next to the fire, she coaxed the dying embers back into life with a small spell before settling into Cadoc's side for warmth.

Judging by the growing light, she waited a long thirty minutes before the Keeper finally appeared, dressed in nothing but his long grey robes. Obviously he had intend on the delay, if the look on his face was any indication. It had been evident yesterday, whilst she and Wynne had helped to heal the injured Dalish, that Zathrian was far from thrilled to have 'shems' helping him. It was only for Lanaya's sake that Garnet had held her tongue then. Now, with a look that could almost be a smirk on his face, she could have happily punched him. It was only her respect for the Keeper's First, and oddly enough her respect for Zevran, that stopped her doing so.

"Now, as there was no time yesterday, allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Zathrian, the Keeper of this clan. It's guide and preserver of our ancient law. And you are…?" the elf stated once he had reached the campfire.

Dusting herself off as she rose, mostly to try reign in the urge to roll her eyes or reply with a scathing comment, she plastered the most sincere smile she could muster onto her face. "My name is Garnet, Circle Mage and Grey Warden. It is a pleasure to _properly_ meet you."

"Manners… from a Shemlen?" Zathrian replied, sounding genuinely puzzled. "Interesting. What might be your mission here? With such an… eclectic group of traveling companions." Garnet's eyes followed the Keeper's line of sight, falling fully on Zevran as he began to walk towards them. "I imagine you are here, regarding the treaties we signed, centuries ago. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. You have seen for yourself how my clan currently fairs, we will not be able to uphold our obligations. I am truly sorry. "

"Indeed. Ir abelas, Hahren," Garnet said respectfully, only feeling slightly smug at the shocked expression that flittered across Zathrian's face. "Though, is there no way to help your clan? Yesterday, there was some mention of Werewolves..."

"Ah, Cariño. You are about to volunteer our services for another impossible task, no?" Zevran 'greeted' as he reached the campfire. Unexpectedly, he slipped an arm loosely around her shoulders, yet Garnet instinctively shifted her weight so she was leaning slightly into him. It was hardly a flamboyant gesture, or even remotely intimate, just one that was friendly and comfortable. However, the Keeper looked positively scandalised, as did the other Dalish that were now milling about the camp.

Choosing to ignore the glares, Garnet smiled at her companion. "Was there any doubt?" she asked, before turning her attention back to Zathrian. "We will gladly help were we can, though if we are to track down your Werewolves, we will need at least a rough map and perhaps some supplies."

"Of course. I will have Mithra ready them shortly, and I am sure Varathorn will be willing to barter with you," the Keeper replied.

"Ma Serannas," Garnet replied, nodding respectfully to the elder elf, then caught Zevran's eye. "Go and prepare. And get Morrigan and Leliana to do so as well, we will set out as soon as we have the maps."

Kissing the back of Garnet's hand, Zevran grinned. "Scouting with three beautiful ladies, you spoil me, mi querida."

Idly, she admired his physique as he jogged back to their part of the camp, only to have Zathrian disturb her thoughts. "I find your… relationship surprising," the Keeper stated, coolly. "Though I must wonder it's true nature."

Warning bells sound in the back of her mind as she regarded the elder elf. "You mean Zevran and myself?" she asked, receiving a terse nod in response. In truth, Garnet had expected something along this line the moment they had encountered the hunters, yet that did little to ease her annoyance at the Keeper's self-righteous tone. "I would say first and foremost, he is a dear and trusted friend, though that would be a small lie," she explained calmly, settling back on her right hip. "Firstly, Zevran was an assassin that was hired by Loghain to kill myself and my fellow warden. Then, I spared his life and _he_ asked to join our mission in return for protection from his former guild, obviously I accepted." She paused, letting that sink in for a moment and couldn't help but smirk at Zathrian's surprised expression. "Soon we became friends and now we are lovers, not that _that_ is any of your concern or business." When the Keeper went to speak, Garnet held up her hand. "Being a mage, I am certainly used to other's disdain, so I do not find it surprising to find it here amongst your people. I well know what you were trying to imply, but you are greatly mistaken Hahren. I do not think Zevran lesser than me, nor am I using him to simply satisfy my own needs. I respect, trust and care for him and I couldn't give a damn about what anyone else thinks."

With that, Garnet turned on her heel, trying to hide the smirk that pulled at her lips at seeing the Keeper utterly speechless, and set off to find Varathorn. As she went, Garnet noticed Leliana leaning on a nearby tree and caught the bard's eye. "You repeat any of that to Zev and I'll give your shoes to Cadoc to use as chew toys," she threatened, smiling.

"Perish the thought," Leliana chuckled, linking her arm through Garnet's as they went.

**Author's Note:**

**If you cannot tell, there will be a fair few chapters set in the Brecilian Forest, which will of course include the Dalish gloves!  
>Ir abelas, Hahren translates to (I'm) very sorry, Elder. See DAwiki, Elven Language.<br>Ma Serannas (SEHR-ah-nahs) means I'm grateful**


	30. Dressing Down

**Dressing Down** (Zevran PoV)

Slipping back into his tent, Zevran grabbed one of his many vails of poison, along with Garnet's quiver and bow that were still lying where she had discarded them last night. Idly, he wondered what must the others think, as he was sure that even the likes of Alistair must have noticed that his friendship with the warden was not strictly platonic. Shrugging the thought away, he stepped back out into the crisp morning, intending to sit by the fire whilst he waited for the warden and Leliana to return, and coat Garnet's arrows to give her an extra advantage in any upcoming fights.  
>However, the sound of Wynne's distant voice caught his attention. Quietly, Zevran crept through the sparse trees that bordered one side of their campsite until he was perched on a rocky ledge, overlooking the large pond that inhabited at least a quarter of the Dalish clearing. When he noticed it was Garnet that Wynne was speaking to, Zevran was propelled by an unknown compulsion to leave them in privacy. Until he caught the elder mage's words.<p>

"You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?" The tone was quite pleasant, yet Zevran couldn't shake the feeling it was an accusation.

From his perch, he watched as Garnet briefly knelt to fill her water skin, admiring her natural grace as she moved. Her silence whilst preforming the small task led him to wonder if the warden was actually going to answer the older women, and what that would mean for the pair of them. Then again, Wynne might not even be speaking about him. Hadn't he made the assumption there was something between the two wardens, maybe Wynne had done the same, or perhaps it was some else entirely? Leliana perhaps? As the two women were awfully close… not that _that_ wasn't a pleasant image.

Before Zevran's mind could start to fully wander down that path, Garnet's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You mean Zevran and me?" she asked blatantly, her head tilted slightly to the side making her red hair fall over one shoulder alluringly.

"I almost wish I didn't," Wynne replied, her posture stiffening into a stance that Zevran thought simply screamed 'angry tutor', though that was probably fitting, since she had been a healing instructor after all. "Half of us aren't getting any sleep, the way you two carry on at night."

Annoyance bubbled up in him as he narrowed his eyes at the scene in front of him. Quite frankly, he felt incensed. Due to Garnet's concern for the others, the pair of them had not spent a night together whilst at camp, with only the previous one as an exception and Zevran was damned sure they had not been loud. In fact, he was adamant about it, for he spent part of the night amazed that the warden had been so quiet, especially when he lavished her with attention that usually made her moan with abandonment. With this in mind, Zevran was certain that Wynne's comment was meant to provoke and would upset Garnet deeply, as she always put others first. Something that he had long decided was an extreme fault of hers, even if it was endearing.

However, the warden simply shifted her weight to one hip and raised an eyebrow. "I'm very sorry for that Wynne. We'll try and keep it down next time." She had replied so deadpan that Zevran found himself stifling a chuckle.

"That's… kind of you…I suppose," the grey haired mage stuttered in reply, further adding to his enjoyment. "Anyway, I noticed your blossoming relationship, and wanted to ask where you thought it was going."

Just like that, Zevran's good mood vanished. He sat tense, waiting for the warden's reply whilst trying to convince himself it was no big deal. They were friends, yes? Friends that had sex, and enjoyed each other's company a great deal, and had become each other's confidant… The tightness in his chest when he looked at Garnet, the way her smile and laughter lit up his day, the fact that he missed her company when they weren't together… None of that meant anything, not at all. Yet, even with these reassurances, Zevran desperately wanted to know Garnet's opinion. Though before she could answer, Wynne was speaking again.

"He seems to only have one thing on his mind," she said, disapproval evident in her voice. "I question the wisdom of a Grey Warden being involved in such an affair."

Swallowing thickly passed the lump that wanted to form in his throat, Zevran couldn't even find it in himself to be angered by Wynne's words. He had always known that he was not good enough for Garnet, having someone else point out her error of judgement was only going to hurry the arrival of the realisation. A realisation that Zevran had been sure the warden would reach someday soon, anyway. If that knowledge hurt, well… such is life.

If he had turned away a moment sooner, Zevran would have missed the slight tensing of Garnet's jaw, or the way her eyes seemed to flash a more vibrant green before she clenched her fists by her sides. It was more than evident that the warden was trying to hold her temper, however her words were an utter surprise to him. "How dare you?!" she demanded, her usually soft voice terse with holding back emotion. "How dare you judge him?!"

"You are a Grey Warden. You have responsibilities that supersede your personal desires," Wynne stated harshly.

Garnet gave a short bark of laughter, and Zevran swore he saw a brief flash a flame as she did. "You seek to tell me my duties?" she asked incredulously, her voice raising in volume for the first time since he had known her. "You may have more years of experience when it comes to being a mage, Wynne, but you do not know the first thing about being a Warden. The only other person in all of Ferelden who does is Alistair, who decided to defer to me and my decisions despite being the senior warden. It would not be unrealistic to say the weight of at least the country is on my shoulders, if not more, and through everything, I have done the best with what I have. I have never been too proud or too stubborn to listen or seek out advice or guidance regarding a mission, and I have _never_ failed in my duty as a Grey Warden. However, I am also a human being. A real person with actual emotions and most of the time, it seems only Zevran gives a damn about that fact!" Her last sentence was delivered with a positive shout, earning the attention of everyone else in camp. Everyone bar Leliana that was, who was conspicuously missing, not that Zevran paid that fact much heed with the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Child, you must understand," Wynne started, exasperation evident in her tone. The way she addressed the warden alone made Zevran bristle on Garnet's before, for she was certainly no child. "Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish."

Love. That was a big word, and one that scared Zevran half to death. A word for an emotion that he didn't believe in, at least not for himself. An emotion he highly doubting Garnet felt for him…

"Love?" Garnet practically scoffed, a sound that constricted Zevran's chest in a way he didn't think possible and a sinking feeling settled in his gut. "What do you know about love Wynne? That may sound awfully presumptuous, but no more so than you are being. You don't know me, and you are making that abundantly clear. You may have lived in the tower as well, but other than a few meetings with Irving, I never saw you. And during the months we have travelled… our conversations have involved you lecturing me on different aspects of magic or history. So if, in all this time, you don't know me… how the damn do you think to know Zev? When the only time you speak to him is to deride him, to make him feel bad for the person he is."

'_Ah'_ Zevran thought, wholly eloquently. It seemed the warden had overheard his interactions with Wynne. Even though he had always turned them into a joke, brushing off her comments with insolent banter, it didn't mean he wasn't angered or offended with the elder mage's opinion. It seemed that Garnet was as well.

"What gives you the right to act so high and mighty, to look down your nose at others?" she continued, her words becoming a tirade. "You look down on Morrigan for being an apostate, you look down on Zevran for simply being who he is. You look down on me for accepting others as they are. Damn it, you look down on Cadoc for being a war dog for Maker's sake, demanding he be bathed like he's a lapdog!"

At that moment, the mabari barked, almost as if agreeing with his mistress' sentiment. Casting his gaze about the others, he noticed that the witch stood with her arms folded across her chest and a smirk tugging at her mouth. Despite the topic of conversation, and he used that phrase loosely, Zevran was actually enjoying watching Garnet lose her temper for a change.

"But I digress," the warden said, her mouth quirking up at one side. Though with the furious gleam in her eyes, it looked more like a threat than a smile. "You mentioned love, and I have to laugh at your notion of it. I have not once said I am in love with Zev, we are two consenting adults who enjoy each other's company."

Shutting his eyes, Zevran tried to control the inexplicable emotion that came from hearing those words. It confused him, the sadness he felt, for hadn't he just been thinking the same thing?

"We have not known each other long enough to able to call any affection between us, love. However," Garnet continued. "I care for him, a great deal and I trust him, not only with my life but with my sanity. Without him, _exactly_ the way he is, I am sure I would have cracked under all the pressure."

The hurt that he had unexpectedly felt, vanished. Only to be replaced by a strange mix of pride and humbleness. Zevran smiled at her words. He could admit, he cared for her too... which wasn't as scary as he would once have expected, and he certainly trusted her. Last night had solidified that for him, her defence of him today only strengthened his opinion.

"Perhaps, if you took the time to _actually_ get to know him, instead of judging him or assuming things about him, you might understand. And that goes for your attitude towards everyone else as well." With that, Garnet turned on her heal and stalked away from Wynne, leaving their spectators in shock. Well, Alistair and Bodahn looked shock. Morrigan looked pleased, Sten seemed indifferent and Sandal didn't seem to understand what had happened. Only Cadoc followed the warden, trotting after her with a happy yap.

Leliana chose that moment to reappear, though not down by the pond with the others, but directly by his side. The only thing that stopped Zevran from flinching in surprise was his years of training. "Very good, my dear bard," he greeted with a smirk.

His fellow rogue merely returned a sweet smile. "You are aware, that is not the first time she has defended you or your relationship, no?" she stated, causing him to raise an eyebrow in question. "Her meeting, with the Keeper, ended much the same way. She does truly care for you Zevran. Though if she finds out you heard anything from me, you will owe me new shoes, yes?"

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note<span>**

**As I'm sure I've made clear, Wynne's opinion regarding the warden's & Zev's relationship sorely irked me. I debated & played about a lot with how I thought this would go, in the end… this is what happened! Don't get me wrong, on the whole I like Wynne, but her 'better than thou' nature really riles me!  
>I'm very sorry, Lady Velvet C. Peterson, that I did not include calling Wynne a cow like I have in so many of our conversations!<strong>


	31. A Copper for Your Thoughts

**A Copper for Your Thoughts** (Amell PoV)

Sitting crossed legged on the soft ground, clad in borrowed brown leggings and a russet tunic, curtesy of Lanaya, Garnet gave a weary sigh. The thick smoke from the herbal fire made her eyes water, yet the curious resin that had been added to kindling by the Keeper's First, was fragrant enough. A hoarse cough caught her attention, and shifting to kneel beside the cot she had taken up vigil by for the better part of three hours, she held a bottle of health potion to the elf's parched lips.

"Rest, Deygan," she soothed as the hunter tried to speak. Gently, Garnet stroked his fevered brow with a damp cloth, helping him to ease back into sleep before lapsing back into her own thoughts.

It had been a long day, and only the western part of the Brecilian Forest had been scouted. It would take another grueling day to traverse the eastern side, but at least Mithra had been kind enough to teach them how to mark their path in a way that wouldn't be disturbed by the local floral or fauna, which meant that they could head straight for the intersection at day break. Which was a small mercy, given that they had bumbled around like lost nugs today, though perhaps that had not been such a bad thing. Since they had managed to find the ironbark for Varathorn, and taking the wrong path had led them to where Deygan had lay, all but dying, in the dirt. However, they had also encountered a talking tree who called itself the Grand Oak and as well as encountering a talking werewolf, apparently named Swiftrunner.

'_Shame he wasn't as happy to **just** talk as the tree had been'_ she thought ruefully to herself, a sardonic smile twitching the corner of her mouth. The whole mess the Dalish found themselves in seemed _off_ to her, the fact Zathrian failed to mention that the werewolves were not mindless beasts only added to the fact. And Swiftrunner hadn't been mindless. Aggressive, yes. Single-minded, certainly. But definitely not mindless, and Garnet couldn't help the feeling that she wasn't being told the whole truth, which put her on edge. She didn't like putting her friends in unnecessary danger, and yet, since bring Deygan back to the Dalish camp, the elves had been nothing but open and helpful. Well, all except their Keeper who had secluded himself away in his aravel.

"A copper for your thoughts, that's what you human's say, isn't it?" a sweet voice asked from the other side of the fire.

Looking up, she smiled easily at Lanaya. "It is, but there's nothing much to tell. Just trying to plan out tomorrow in my head and hoping we come out of it unscathed." It wasn't a complete lie, and Garnet figured it sounded a lot more reasonable than: You're Keeper is a liar and if his lies gets one of my friends hurt, I will have his head on a platter. That, and she genuinely like Lanaya and whatever Zathrian wasn't telling, wasn't the woman's fault.

"You care a great deal," the elf stated, returning her smile as she came to sit next to her. It was only then that Garnet noticed that Lanaya carried a small package bound in what appeared to be thin bark, tied with some sort of vine. Her curiosity must have been evident, for the other woman chuckled. "Here, before I forget. Varathorn asked me to give it to you, said he hoped you'd forgive him but he forgot he had these and to take them as part of the payment for the ironbark, along with the bow he's crafting for you."

Garnet's brow furrowed as she took the small package and carefully unwrapped it. Unexpected tears of appreciation welled up in her eyes. _'When did I become so emotional?'_ she wondered, slightly annoyed at herself, as she carefully ran a bare fingertip across the soft, warm brown leather. If he had been here, Garnet would have hugged Varathorn. _'Dear, sweet man'_

"They are excellent quality, as I'm sure you're aware. Though seem a little large for you," Lanaya stated. Her expression and tone was neutral, but an intrigued glint was in her eyes.

Smiling wryly, Garnet shrugged. "They're for a gift. When I went to barter with Varathorn before we set out, I enquired if he had any Dalish made gloves that would fit a man. He told me he only had ones to fit a woman, and as tempted as I was…"

"The gift was more important," the elf concluded. "They are for your Zevran, are they not?" At that, Garnet raised an eyebrow, causing Lanaya to laugh. "The whole camp has heard of your… conversation with Zathrian. And a few of us, including the Keeper, have caught wind of the _disagreement _with your elder mage as well. It is unusual for a human and an elf to become friends, let alone for a human to defend an elf so vehemently."

"It's stupid and disgusting," Garnet practically snarled. "How Maker damned blind does someone need to be not to realise that elves are equal to humans?! It's more absurd than the powers that be demanding mage's be locked up, like we are animals," she stated, gesticulating angrily. "And if you hadn't guessed, I'm rather opinionated on both subjects." Flashing her new friend a wry smile, Garnet set about retying the package that still sat in her lap.

"So it seems, falon," Lanaya grinned. "But we have more important things to do tonight than put Thedas to rights. You have an important package to deliver, and I will take my turn watching over Deygan."

Squeezing the elf's hand in thanks, Garnet stood to brush off her borrowed clothes. "If you need any help…" she began, only to be cut off.

"I think you will be too busy to come to my aid tonight," Lanaya chuckled, giving her a knowing look.

'_She's as bad as Leliana!'_ Smiling, she shook her head and set off towards the camp's main clearing. The sun had already set, and a indigo haze rose above the treeline. Shadows had begun to creep along the ground, cast by the large camp fire that dominated the more populated part of the clearing. Idly, Garnet wondered if she would find Zevran there, only to be halted in her thoughts and tracks as a pair of strong arms encircled her waist. The welcome smell of sandalwood washed over her, as warm lips caressed the side of her neck.

"Cariño," Zevran whispered next to her ear, his accented voice never failing to send a pleasant shiver down her spine. "A moment of your time, if I may."

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note<span>**

**So, this is my take on 'acquiring' the Dalish Gloves to give to Zevran. I know it's not a strictly Zevran/Amell chapter, but it was in my head and I wanted to explore Lanaya a little & the fact she is rather accepting of human compared to most other elves. Other than that:  
>The Curious Resin mentioned is an ingredient that goes into Incense of Awareness, I thought it would be a useful thing to burn near a sickbed set in a forest.<br>Falon (fah-LOHN) – elven word meaning friend.  
>Deygan is the Dalish hunter you encounter during Wounded in the Woods.<strong>


	32. The Gift of Distraction

**The Gift of Distraction** (Zevran PoV)

"Gloves? You're giving me gloves? What for?" he demanded, hoping Garnet didn't notice the way his hands trembled as he held them. This… gift. A gift that _she_ had given _him_. Why had she given him gloves? And why was his heart beating so fast?

The wolf pelt had been confusing enough, though Zevran had managed to convince himself it was a gesture born of necessity. This… this most certainly was not. For his current pair had not even been damaged, not in the slightest, and this new pair had even been _wrapped_. Lacking the knowledge of what he was supposed to _do_ upon receiving a gift, Zevran desperately tried to figure out how they had gotten into the situation in the first place.

Just hours ago they had returned from scouting the western side of the Brecilian Forest, a wounded hunter supported between himself and Leliana. Morrigan maintaining a protective barrier around them, whilst Garnet tried to heal the Dalish elf as they walked. The moment they arrived back at the camp, the warden had been whisked away somewhere by the clan's First. And according to Alistair, Garnet had then spent several hours beside the sickbed of the recovering hunter. Which really came as little surprise, given her kind and caring nature. Something Zevran was certain would get her killed one day.

He, for the most part, had spent that time tending his daggers and chatting amicably with Leliana, as they sat by the Dalish campfire listening to Sarel spin several tales. But when the sun had begun to set, Zevran had grown concerned about Garnet's prolonged absence. Not that he would ever admit that was what caused of him to go looking for her, should anyone have asked, which they thankfully didn't.

Once he had located Garnet, it had been second nature to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close. A part of him had worried at the implications of that, but he had pushed those thoughts aside, as usual. They had walked, hands loosely clasped, towards their own small campsite with a few dancing werelights guiding their feet. They had ignored the contemptuous glare from Wynne, and a furiously blushing Alistair, choosing to make their way to the warden's tent without preamble. However, Zevran had barely managed to steal a kiss from her plush red lips, before Garnet had handed him the seemingly innocent package.

"They're Dalish gloves," she said, her soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "Like your mother's."

His gaze snapped to her face, sure he would see a mocking sneer to belie the gentle tone of her words, because this was surely some kind of cruel joke. A malicious act meant to shame him somehow. Yet all he saw was a slightly shy smile and Garnet's brow slightly furrowed, not in anger but in concern. For all intents and purposes, the warden looked nervous, and perhaps slightly bashful. It was so unexpected and charming that Zevran's distrust melted away instantly.

"Maker's breath," he whispered, finding himself humbled by the woman sat beside him. Hoping to hide his own embarrassment, Zevran's gaze fell to the gloves and he began giving them closer inspection. The tent was suddenly illuminated by a dozen more werelights, enabling him to appreciate the craftsmanship better. A smile tugged at his lips at Garnet's thoughtfulness, feeling guilty that he had been suspicious of her, and had doubted her intentions. "They are like my mother's," Zevran agreed, carefully tracing the knotwork that had been stitched into the hide. "The leather was less thick, and they had more embroidery, but these are very close," he enthused, slipping them on. "And quite handsome."

"Just like the elf they belong too," Garnet smiled, leaning over and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "You're welcome, by the way," she added with a chuckle.

"Do I see surprised? Perhaps I am," he admitted, keeping his tone jovial despite rapid beating of his heart, and the knots trying to tie themselves in his gut. This was so far out of his comfort zone, Zevran didn't think he could find an even footing even if he tried. Though he knew he was supposed to do something in this situation, and more importantly he actually _wanted _to. Swallowing thickly, he took hold of Garnet's hands in his. "I appreciate the fact you even thought of me," he tried to explain. "No one has simply… given me a gift before. Thank you."

A brief look of surprise flitted across the warden's face, before she gave him a smile that was positively radiant. "I'm glad you like them. Though you did have me worried for a moment."

"Oh? Then I must apologise. How can I make it up to you Cariño?" Zevran grinned wickedly, determined to steer the conversation in a more familiar direction.

Garnet's vivid green eyes noticeably darkened as she chuckled seductively. "You're the great Zevran Arainai, are you not?" she purred, gripping the collar of his tunic and pulling him closer. "I'm sure you can think of something," she murmured against his lips.

"Yo más bien lo pueden," Zevran assured, leaning his weight forward and effectively pushing Garnet to lay back on the furs that lined the floor of her tent.

For a heartbeat, he held himself above her. Simply admiring her beauty. Her tousled red hair splayed around her head like a fiery halo. The faint shine of green beneath her half-closed lids. And most of all, her berry red lips that just begged to be kissed. His arousal grew for her, as he watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips. Without warning, Garnet leant upwards, deftly running her tongue along the tapered curve of his right ear. Involuntarily, he moan in pleasure, eliciting a sultry chuckle from the warden.

"Mi tentadora," Zevran growled softly, reaching to tangle his fingers in her unruly locks.

"My assassin," she replied, looking up at him through her lashes as her arms snaked around his neck.

No matter how many times he heard Garnet call him _hers_, it always left Zevran feeling just a little breathless. It made his heart beat just a little faster. Once again, the implications of that were more than a little frightening, so he chose the course of action he felt most comfortable with, and refused to think on it. Instead, he crashed his lips to hers in a hungry, demanding kiss. Determined to drive all conscious thought away.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note<span>**

**Well this is my take on the 'Glove' scene. I wanted to explore a little about what Zevran would be thinking/feeling and also what happened later. As well as trying to show him dealing, or not dealing as the case may be, with his feelings for Amell. For those interested, I picture the design on the gloves to be similar to Celtic knotwork...  
>'Yo más bien lo pueden' roughly translates to 'I most certainly can'<br>'Mi tentadora' means 'My temptress'**


	33. Nature of the Beast

**Nature of the Beast **(Amell PoV)

The sound of ferocious roars and vicious snarls echoed around the ruined chamber. The only light was cast from weak, dappled sunlight that seeped into the room through various cracks in the once solid stone structure. The wan light barely illuminated the pack of werewolves that slathered and growled as they past. _'How do we keep getting into these situations?' _Garnet wondered as she trained her eyes resolutely ahead. She had no idea if werewolves could smell fear like it was said mabaris could, but she wasn't prepared to take any chances. The fight through the ruins had been gruelling enough, now with both herself and Morrigan having seriously depleted their lyrium supply, as well as Leliana slightly limping from a twisted ankle and Zevran sporting a wicked looking scratch a long the length of his jaw, Garnet was not inclined to push their luck.

The latter point made her more angry than she perhaps should be. It was rare that any of them came out of a fight unscathed, but seeing that werewolf attempt to maul Zevran had set her blood boiling. Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to cast a Winter's Grasp instead of Inferno, to help him, and the assassin had subsequently assured them all that he was perfect fine. Still, it was too close for her liking, and the panic that had gripped her when fretting if the curse could be passed on through such a wound had not fully abated.

As if reading her mind, Zevran's hand discretely stroked down the back of her arm, stopping just short of the edge of her wrist wraps. "Estar preparado," he whispered in her ear, and she nodded in agreement, smiling inwardly that she had actually understood his Antivan for once.

"What comes?" Morrigan questioned in a low, hushed voice.

Garnet peered through the gloom, and saw what appeared to be an apparition of a woman weaving it's way through the throng of werewolves, only stopping once it had reached the one they had come to know as Swiftrunner. The figure glimmered, seemingly casting her own incandescent light, which caused Garnet to wonder what manner of spirit this was. For it was obvious that this woman was not human, nor elf.

"A nature spirit," Morrigan gasped quietly, confirming her own suspicions. "That is old and powerful magic indeed," the witch continued.

Powerful was perhaps an understatement, for the air positively crackled with unspent energy, with currents so strong that Garnet could feel the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. It was like the beginnings of a thunderstorm. The magic was so palpable, you could almost taste it, and the distinct smell of the fade began to permeate around the closed chamber. '_What have you gotten into this time?'_ she reprimanded herself. Zathrian had never mentioned a spirit.

Suddenly, the werewolves quietened and abruptly dropped to their knees in obvious reverence to the spirit. A shaft of well place light illuminated the figure fully now, and Garnet took in the sight. Part humanoid, part plant it appeared, as twisted vines seemed to form the figures legs and hands. With greenish-grey skin, hair of jet and eyes of coal, it was a striking sight. As eerie as the form was, there was something undeniably beautiful about the spirit, and an unmistakable feeling of calmness radiated from her.

"I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest," the spirit greeted, her voice sounding both aged and young, with an odd echoing cadence adding to the otherworldliness.

_'So this is the Lady the werewolves speak of' _Garnet realised. Cautiously she stepped forward, careful to keep her posture relaxed and pace slow. The last thing she wanted was to panic the werewolves into attacking. Unless they or the spirit made the first move, Garnet had already decided there would be no more bloodshed. "I give you my thanks," she replied, bowing her head slightly in respect. "I am glad we have this chance to talk."

"Do not listen to her, my lady," Swiftrunner interrupted in a menacing growl. "She will betray you. We must attack her now."

Despite the threat, Garnet felt sorry for the werewolf. It was clear he was afraid for the spirit's safety, which further confirmed her suspicion that these were not mindless creatures driven purely by instinct. Swiftrunner was wanting to protect someone who he cared about, something Garnet understood and could empathise with. Not that it made her any less wary of the situation.

"Hush Swiftrunner," the Lady implored. "Your urge for battle has only seen the deaths of the very ones you are trying to save. Is that what you want?"

"No, my lady. Anything but that," the werewolf replied, practically deflating under the spirit's unwavering gaze.

"The time has come to speak with this outsider. To set our rage aside," the spirit continued, seemingly addressing the rest of the werewolf pack. "I apologise on Swiftrunner's behalf," the Lady said, turning to Garnet once again. "He struggles with his nature."

"As we all do, my lady," she replied solemnly, fully meaning the sentiment. In truth, her heart went out to the werewolves. There was a lot more to the tale than the Dalish Keeper had let them know, and wickedly she wondered if it were not for knowing Zevran, or meeting Lanaya, would she still be willing to help the clan.

"Truer words were never spoke," the spirit agreed, closing the distance between them until they stood a mere arm's length apart. "But few could claim the same as these creatures. Their very nature is a curse forced upon them. No doubt you have questions, mortal. There are things that Zathrian has not told you."

"There is truly no surprise in that," Zevran muttered, pulling a smile from both Garnet's and the Lady's lips.

"Would you enlighten us?" Garnet requested, thankful she had brought the three companions she had, rather than Alistair or Sten. Neither of which had the most tolerable approach to the Fade.

Never breaking eye contact, the spirit nodded before silently inviting them to sit, leading them to a large fallen tree truck that had seemingly lived it's entire cycle within the walls of the chamber. "It was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures suffer, that Zathrian's own people now suffer. Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close to this forest. They sought to drive the Dalish away. Zathrian was a young man then, he had a son and daughter he loved greatly. And while out hunting, the human tribe captured them both."

"Dear maker," Leliana muttered, her eyes downcast to the stone paved floor.

"The humans tortured the boy, killed him. The girl they raped, and left for dead," Swiftrunner snarled as he turned to face them, hatred for the crimes evident in his gravelly voice. "The Dalish found her, but she learned later that she was... with child."

Garnet shut her eyes, as tears threatened to spill. To her mind, it was a hard task to find any fate worse than that for a woman, of any race. It made her shudder to think of it, but Zevran's quiet voice broke into her troubled thoughts. "Malvado," he whispered, shaking his head.

"She killed herself?" Morrigan questioned, her tone remarkably soft, belying the passive look on her face. Swiftrunner nodded in response, his gaze settling on a spot of moss covered paving slab, and did not look up again.

"I'm inclined to say the humans deserved whatever they got," Garnet admitted, raising her eyes to meet the spirit's.

"Indeed they did," the Lady agreed, a heavy sadness in her tone.

Swiftrunner suddenly stood to his full height, and on hind legs loped towards them. "Zathrian came to these ruins, and summoned a terrible spirit and bound it to the body of a great wolf. So Witherfang came to be," he explained. "Witherfang hunted the human tribe. Many were killed, but others were cursed with his blood. Becoming twisted and savage creatures." At this news, Garnet's gaze snapped to Zevran. Lingering on the swipe mark along his jaw.

"Twisted and savage just as Witherfang himself is. Though do not worry about your mate, mortal. The curse can only be passed on through a bite, he is quite safe," the spirit stated.

Palpably relieved by the Lady's words, she almost missed Zevran being referred to her as her 'mate'. Though when it had sunk in, she raised an eyebrow, regarding the elf's surprised look and noticing he did not look displeased with the thought. "Thank you for your reassurance, my lady," she replied, smiling briefly. "But please continue."

Inclining her head in acquisition, the spirit rose from her seated position. "They were driven into the forest. When the human tribe finally left for good, their cursed brethren remained. Pitiful and mindless animals," she explained.

"Until I found you, my lady," Swiftrunner interjected, dropping to bended knee beside the spirit. "You gave me peace." There was a tender moment as the spirit regarded the werewolf, and Garnet could practically feel the care the Lady felt for her charges.

"I showed Swiftrunner there was another side to his bestial behaviour," the spirit explained. "I soothed his rage, and his humanity emerged. He bought others to me."

Nodding in understanding, Garnet steeled herself to ask the next question, still wary the werewolves could turn hostile at any moment. Not unlikely the feeling she often had within the Dalish camp, if she were to be honest. "Why did you ambush the Dalish? Was it for revenge?"

"We seek to end the curse. The crimes committed against Zathrian's children were grave, but they were committed centuries ago, by those long dead," the lady said. "Word was sent to Zathrian every time the landships passed this way, asking him to come. But he has always ignored us, and we will no long be denied."

"We spread the curse to his people so he must end the curse to save them," Swiftrunner elaborated, though in truth it was not needed, Garnet had already figured that out. Yet she nodded at the werewolf in understanding, mostly to be polite.

"Please mortal, you must go to him. Bring him here," the Lady implored. "If he sees these creatures, hears their plight, surely he will agree to end the curse."

Sighing inwardly, Garnet rose from her improvised seat, entirely doubtful that the Keeper would see any reason or have any compassion for the werewolves. However, she was still willing to try and persuade him. Since she truly believed that innocents were now suffering for a centuries old crime, human and elf alike. "Alright," she agreed, cautiously. "I will bring Zathrian here."

"Kicking and screaming if we must," Morrigan added, almost under her breath.

"Tell him, if he refuses, I will ensure Witherfang is never found. He will never cure his clan," the spirit warned.

"Reasonable enough," Zevran quipped, though not as boisterously as he usually would.

"Outside of this chamber, the passage leading back to the surface has been opened for you," the spirit explained, indicating to a inconspicuous stone door that was barely visible in the gloom. "Return with Zathrian as soon as you can."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note<strong>

**First up, translations: 'Estar preparado' means 'Be prepared' and 'Malvado' means 'Wicked'.  
>So I know this is a bit of a jump cut, but I didn't feel I needed to retell trudging through the ruin, as I'm sure we all remember what a pain it was to navigate!<strong>


	34. The Other Side

**The Other Side **(Zevran PoV)

As they jogged up the flight of cracked and decrepit stone stairs, he couldn't help but keep an eye on the warden. It was true that at least half of the time had been spent watching the delightful way her hips swayed when she moved, but it honestly truly more than that. Zevran knew Garnet had been affected by the spirit's tale, and the werewolves' plight. He also suspected she was more than a little angry that Zathrian had withheld vital information from them, not that he was at all surprised. Still it irked him that the Keeper thought to treat his warden so poorly.

His. When did he start thinking of Garnet as _his_? Zevran had truly meant that he would never hold claim to her, nor seek anything she was not willing to give. Though since being with her, the thought of her with another... but it was more than just the physical.

He could well recall the way she had responded when the werewolf had caught him, could remember the look of concern and fear in her emerald eyes. How annoyed she had been when he had declined her healing magic in order to save her mana, and how gently she had administered the health poultice. Despite being worried himself about becoming cursed, Zevran had been more rattled by how much Garnet seemed to genuinely care for his well being. And after her acceptance of his scars, her defence of him to others and then the gloves... it was all a little disconcerting to him. Not to mention that he'd not long ago been referred to as the warden's 'mate', by a spirit of the Forest no less. The fact that it wasn't true was merely a side note, for Zevran had been more surprised that he hadn't felt panic grip him at the thought. That, or the realisation Garnet hadn't denied the fact even in front of two of her closest friends. There was only one other person in his life that had never denied him, had never been embarrassed or ashamed to admit there was something between them, and that had been Rinna. Which was a frightening thought.

"And here you are already," a voice unexpectedly greeted them, as they reached the dilapidated upper chamber. It roused Zevran from his wandering mind, though he had already partly drawn his blades before he registered that the speaker was Zathrian.

"Somehow I expected to find you here?" Garnet quipped, sounding whole unimpressed.

"Truly it is no surprise," he agreed, sheathing his daggers. His remark earned him a subtle squeeze of fingers in reply as his arms settled back by his sides.

"Did you?" Zathrian questioned, pointedly ignoring his remark. "Aren't you the intuitive one?"

"It would be best if you remembered it is you who require our help, more than we need yours," Leliana interjected tersely, voicing Zevran's own opinion on the matter. Even before the spirit's revelations, which he was inclined to believe, he felt that it would simply have been easier to go in search of another Dalish clan. Zathrian was more trouble than was worth, like a blind bet at wicked grace.

For a moment, the Keeper looked angered, then contrite. "There was no telling what would happen when you reached this ruin. So I decided to come myself," he shrugged, making Zevran want to plunge a knife in his fellow elf's neck. He could fully understand why Garnet was siding with the werewolves.

"You believe you would be able to best Witherfang should we fail, yet felt it necessary to endanger the warden with this errand in the first place?" Morrigan demanded, incredulously. A smirk threatened the corner of Zevran's mouth as he regarded the witch, glad he wasn't the only unlikely person to be taken in by Garnet's charms.

With a small sigh, the warden shook her head. "You and I need to talk Zathrian."

"Yes, yes. There will be plenty of time for that later. Did you acquire the heart?" the Keeper asked.

His tone was so dismissive, that Zevran bristled on Garnet's behalf, his hand instinctively going for the small hidden dagger concealed in his belt. Idly he thought back to earlier in the day as they traipsed the labyrinth of ruined rooms. To the strange occurrence when the warden and Morrigan both swore they had 'conversed' with a spirit trapped in a phylactery. He couldn't help but wonder if Garnet would want to explore the possibilities that had arisen from that, fairly certain the witch would be happy sticking to her shape-shifting. If the warden did, Zevran figured she would have more roguish tendencies, since she could already use a bow. At least, he hoped she would. The skill might have been have translated from elven to common as Arcane Warrior, but there were _very_ few Warrior elves, rogue was much more likely. Which meant he could help train her.

"No." Garnet's simple, solemnly stated answer pulled Zevran from his musings.

"You didn't? May I ask why then, are you leaving the ruin?" Zathrian practically demanded.

"Ah, so you knew about the ruin?" Zevran asked in return, instinctively stepping slightly in front of Garnet. "That is convenient, no? And surprising you did not tell our dear warden such information."

A gentle hand lay on his shoulder, and a small squeeze gave silent thanks. "Why exactly didn't you tell us about the ruins?" Garnet queried.

"There was no need. I knew you would find it and I didn't come to give you history lessons on things that have no baring on your purpose here," the Keeper answered dismissively. "But it seems the spirit has convinced you to act on her behalf. Might I enquire what she wants?"

"It would be interesting to know what you think she wants," Morrigan drawled, as she leant on her gnarled oak staff, eyeing Zathrian disdainfully.

"To survive, I suspect. That is the common want among all such creatures." The Keeper began to pace as he spoke, his robes kicking up dust as it swept along the neglected stone floor. "You do realise she actually _is_ Witherfang?"

"Yes," Garnet replied simply.

"Tis obvious," Morrigan agreed.

For a brief moment both Zevran and Leliana shared a look. It hadn't been obvious to the two rogues, though he supposed that might have something to do with neither of them being magically inclined. Despite feeling a little out of the loop, he couldn't help but smirk at how the two mage's knowledge seemed to deflate the Keeper. For Zathrian now stood with his shoulders sagged, eyeing the warden cautiously.

"She is the powerful spirit of this ancient forest that I summoned long ago, and bound in the body of a wolf," the Keeper explained. "Her nature is that of the forest itself. Beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast."

Zevran's smirk turned softer at hearing the other elf's description. If he hadn't have known better, Zathrian could almost be describing Garnet. As beautiful and serene as she normally was, she was fierce in battle. Death in the form of terrible fireballs and savage arrows. A force to be reckoned with, something he doubted the Keeper had taken into account.

"The curse came from her first," Zathrian continued. "Those she afflicted with it, mirrored her own nature. Becoming savage beasts, as well as human."

"Surely the curse came first from you," Leliana stated, moving to mirror Zevran's stance, but in front of Morrigan.

"They attacked us first, and they were the same savages then as they are now," the Keeper defended, his voice raising slightly, belying his neutral face. "They deserve to be wiped out, and not defended."

"No. The original humans were savages," Garnet countered, her tone strong but not unkind. "And they paid, a long time ago."

"These creatures are not to blame for what befell your family. They are innocents suffering for crimes they did not commit," Morrigan argued.

"As are your own people," the warden added, her gaze softening as she regarded Zathrian.

It came as no surprise to Zevran that Garnet was walking the path of reason, what was unusual was that Morrigan seemed fade-bent on helping her. He'd never seen, nor heard, the witch defend anyone but herself and her existence as an apostate. Not that he blamed her, selfishness was needed to survive in this world after all. But the fact that Morrigan was defending the werewolves was, well... shocking, to say the least.

Shaking his head, Zathrian strode past them, barely pausing to address the warden. "Come. I will accompany you back to the ruin. Let us go speak to the spirit, and I will force her into Witherfang's form. He may then be slain, and the heart taken."

Garnet's hand shot out and clasped the Keeper's forearm, who whirled to face her. The atmosphere was charged and tense as the two mages faced each other. Without hesitation, Zevran drew the dagger closest to Zathrian, but the swipe was halted when the warden caught his wrist with her free hand. Her emerald gaze never broke eye contact with the Keeper. "I assure you, the werewolves have regained their minds," she implored.

"Even so, they are still the same worthless creatures that their ancestors were," Zathrian scoffed. "They deserve nothing more than the misery they possess. This is not your battle, Grey Warden. Let us just take the heart, and be done with it."

"Why? Because they were shems?" Zevran interjected, lowering his blade. He hated using that term for humans, honestly thought it was ridiculous, but felt that playing the 'elf card' might help diffuse the situation. Not that he wouldn't happily slit Zathrian's throat. Howeverm Garnet wanted to resolve this peacefully, which meant he was inclined to do his best to aid her efforts. "You are being short sighted, my friend."

"Won't you at least consider talking to them?" the warden asked, her voice kind and gentle.

Zathrian's eyes narrowed. "Why? You claim they have regained their minds, but they are still savage beasts. Their nature is unchanged. All they want is revenge, or a release that I will not give them. No, let us take the heart and end it."

"Do you still have so much hatred after all this time?" Leliana questioned softly.

"You were not there, you didn't..." the Keeper's voice halted, his eyes clenching shut. "You didn't see what they did to my son. My daughter. And so many others."

Unexpectedly, the warden's grasp shifted from Zathrian's forearm to his hand, squeezing it gently in a reassuring manner. Zevran would have laughed at the look of utter shock on the Keeper's face if the tension hadn't still been palpable. For a heartbeat, Zathrian seemed to calm, to take comfort in Garnet's small gesture. Before he visibly shook himself, flinging her hand away as if she had burnt him.

"You are no Dalish," he continued. "How could you know how we struggled to be safe? How could I let their crimes go unanswered?"

"I don't need to be Dalish to understand how abhorrent their crimes were," the warden replied, not seeming offended by Zathrian's behaviour. "But the perpetrators are long since dead."

"I have sworn to protect my people, and I shall. I will not lift a finger to help the descendants of those savages," the Keeper ranted.

A sigh threatened to escape Zevran's lips as he watched the debated. Knowing Garnet as well as he did, he could tell her own frustration was rising, it was evident by the tight set of her jaw. "You do not even know if these werewolves are their descendants or hapless travellers caught by the curse. They might not all have been human. And your own people are suffering now," she argued. "All I am proposing is that you at least meet with them first."

"And what if it is revenge they want, and not talk?" Zathrian asked. "Will you safeguard me from harm?"

"I don't think it will come to that, but we will. Unless you attack first," Garnet warned, and Zevran nodded his agreement. It was a reasonable enough arrangement.

"I don't see the point in this," the Keeper stated, rubbing his forehead. "But very well. It _has_ been many centuries now. Let us see what the spirit has to say."

With a nod, the warden gestured Zathrian to lead the way, accompanied by Morrigan and Leliana. The witch departed by giving the warden a look, one that Zevran could not discern but one Garnet evidently understood, for she gave a small smile in response. Before he had chance to follow, the warden stopped him, a hand gently cupping the side of his face. A cool, soothing sensation washed over his jaw and he could fell the wound left by the werewolf scratch was finally knitting together.

"Personally, I think your scars add to the air of danger, but I know how vain you are," she told him sweetly, a brief flash of mischief in her eyes.

"Mi querida, it is not vanity when it is perfection you are maintaining," he teased in reply, carefully brushing an errant lock of hair away from her face.

Without warning, she closed the distance between them, stopping only when her luscious lips were a mere hair's breadth away from his. "You're over dressed for perfection," she whispered conspiratorially, before quickly slipping back out of his grasp. Zevran almost groaned in frustration as he watched her saunter towards the stairs. "Thank you, by the way," Garnet called, looking back alluringly over her shoulder with a hand placed against the stonework of the cracked doorway.

Briefly, the image of him pinning her against the wall flashed in his mind, pulling a smirk to his lips. Crossing his arms over his chest, Zevran looked at her in amusement. "And what are you thanking me for, cariño?"

"For your support." With that, she disappeared into the gloom of the narrow stairwell, leaving him staring at the space she had occupied. After a moment, Zevran shook his head, and chuckling, he followed her descent.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's Note<strong>

**So I wanted to give a look into the events from Zevran's PoV, along with a look into his mind. Almost like sitting in a meeting you know you have to pay attention to, but your mind keeps wandering off. **


End file.
